- 


955 


3  355 


(/ 


C'  ^7~Z, 


"Whoever  loves  on  Pawnee  Rock  will  love  always 
and  always,"  she  murmured  softly 


THE 


STONE 


MARGARET  HILLflcCARTER 

Aw-tkor  of 

T no  Peace  of  i'ne  Solomon  Valley, 
Tne  Price  of  i'ne  Prairie,  tire., 


IlWral-ed  bi;  J.  Allen  St.  Jodn 


CHICAGO 

A.C.McCLURG£,CQ 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 
1915 


Published  September,  1915 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


1INTING  COMPANY,  CHICAGO 


5* 


LITTLE  STORY  is  offered  to  such 
as  hold  it  good  to  believe  that,  in  this  prac 
tical  old  world,  the  things  that  are  not  seen  are 
greater  than  the  things  that  are  seen;  and  that 
sometimes  the  eyes  of  innocence  and  love  and 
trust — even  the  eyes  of  a  little  child — can  look 
far  into  the  real  heart  of  life. 


M551865 

l  A 


We  may  build  more  splendid  habitations, 

Fill  our  rooms  with  paintings  and  with  sculpture, 

But  we  cannot 
Buy  with  gold  the  old  associations. 

—  LONGFELLOW. 


1X/TAY  air,  shot  through  with  gladsome 
^  morning  light,  overhung  all  the 
prairies,  swathing  the  brow  of  old  Pawnee 
Rock  with  a  diaphanous  veil  filmy  and  fine 
as  the  draperies  the  master  painters  once 
drew  about  the  shoulders  of  rare  old 
Madonnas.  Wide  away  the  landscape 
stretches  in  lengths  of  shimmering  green 
checked  across  by  flat  brown  roadways, 
and  melting  at  last  into  a  mist  of  lavender- 
gray.  The  only  break  in  all  this  level 
realm  is  Pawnee  Rock  —  grand  old  cita 
del  of  the  Plains,  upreared  in  its  majes 
tic  loneliness  —  the  watch  tower  of  the 
prairies  through,  uncounted  centuries. 

The  westbound  Santa  Fe  train  was 
swinging  away  down  its  shining  trail  of 
steel,  its  coil  of  silvery  smoke  untwisting 
behind  it.  In  the  observation  car  Edith 
Grannell  watched  the  land  waves  roll  by 
with  face  aglow.  Hers  was  an  attractive 
face,  with  sunny,  gray  eyes  shaded  by  dark 
lashes,  straight  black  brows,  a  mouth  and 

[3] 


Cfte  Cornet 


chin  bespeaking  character,  with  a  sense  of 
humor  in  the  little  up-curve  of  the  lips; 
while  from  the  pile  of  lustrous  brown  hair 
to  the  firm  white  throat  between  the  lines 
of  the  soft  linen  collar  there  was  the  mark 
of  dainty,  cleanly,  healthy  youth.  A  keen 
reader  of  human  nature  might  sometimes 
catch  the  sweep  of  a  quickly  vanishing 
shadow  coming  into  the  gray  eyes  now  and 
then,  token  of  a  deeper  feeling  than  most 
light-hearted  girls  of  twenty-two  possess. 

It  came  into  her  eyes  this  morning  as 
she  took  in  the  passing  view.  It  was  not 
her  first  sight  of  the  prairies.  The  hap 
piest  part  of  her  orphaned  childhood  had 
been  spent  on  her  uncle's  ranch  in  the 
West,  and  now  he  had  written  to  her  to 
come  again  for  a  summer's  visit  to  this 
place  of  cherished  memory. 

"  I  wonder  if  Uncle  Samson  will  know 
me.  It  has  been  twelve  years  since  I  was 
here."  The  gray  eyes  darkened  momen 
tarily. 

'  Twelve  years  in  boarding  schools, 
with  chaperons  in  vacations!  I've  never 
seen  Uncle  Samson  once  in  all  this  time, 
and  he's  the  only  other  Grannell  in  the 
world,  so  far  as  I  know.  I  wonder  why 
he  never  asked  me  'to  visit  him  before. 
Or  rather  why  he  should  write  me  now  to 
spend  the  summer  here." 

The  shadow  vanished  from  her  eyes  as 
she  added:  "He's  been  good  to  me  in 
his  way;  I'm  not  going  to  find  fault.  And 
now  that  I  can  take  care  of  myself,  I  hope 
I  can  make  some  returns  for  the  money 
he  has  spent  on  my  education,  and  "  — 
there  was  a  little  choking  pain  in  her 


Cfte  Cornet  Stone          5 

throat — "it  will  be  good  to  feel  that 
there  is  some  place  that  seems  something 
like  a  home.  I've  been  homeless  so  long." 

On  this  May  morning,  Samson  Gran- 
nell,  rich  ranch  owner  in  the  great  Kansas 
wheat  belt,  was  motoring  up  to  the  village 
to  meet  the  train.  He  did  not  notice  any 
thing  of  rock,  or  sky,  or  fleeting  purple 
cloud-shadows  on  green  prairies.  What 
he  did  note  was  the  thrifty  promise  of 
June  in  the  wheat  fields  and  the  straight 
lines  of  the  long  narrow  roadways  between 
them.  His  mind  this  morning,  however, 
was  not  altogether  with  his  eyes  on  the 
wheat  fields  and  roadways.  While  they 
lost  nothing  of  the  commercial  value  of 
the  landscape,  he  was  busy  with  plans  of 
his  own. 

"  Edith  is  under  obligation  to  me  before 
everybody  else,"  he  mused.  "  I've  sup 
ported  her  and  educated  her,  and  I'm  the 
only  living  person  to  be  interested  in  her 
welfare.  Now  if  she  is  a  sensible  girl, 
this  will  be  the  biggest  thing  of  all  if 
my  plans  carry  —  and  they  will  carry." 

As  he  sent  his  big  car  swiftly  along  the 
level  road  against  which  the  seas  of  green 
wheat  were  surging  like  ocean  tides  about 
a  bar  of  level  sand,  Grannell  did  not  repeat 
even  to  himself  what  this  biggest  thing  of 
all  might  be.  But  the  square-cut  jaw  was 
index  to  how  well  any  plan  of  his  must 
thrive  when  he  said,  "  It  will  carry." 

At  the  station  he  did  not  go  forward 
to  meet  his  niece  climbing  down  from  the 
Pullman  beyond  the  water  tank.  Every 
thing,  including  nieces,  came  to  him. 


6  Cfte  Cornet  §>tone 

u  You  are  Edith,  I  suppose."  He  gave 
her  his  hand  as  if  to  ward  off  a  more 
affectionate  greeting,  just  as  twelve  years 
ago  at  this  very  place  he  had  given  her  his 
hand  to  ward  off  a  more  affectionate  part 
ing.  But  the  young  lady  who  met  him 
showed  no  signs  of  tumultuous  effusion. 
Instead  of  the  shy  little  child  whom  he 
was  unconsciously  expecting,  came  a  girl 
with  shining  eyes  and  lustrous  hair  and 
cheeks  of  apple  blossom  pink;  a  girl  with 
the  vigor  and  health  and  grace  of  youth. 

The  gown  of  dark-blue  soft  stuff,  fin 
ished  with  the  embroidered  linen  collar 
and  cuffs,  the  stylish  little  blue  straw  hat 
with  white  quill  things  of  latest  millinery 
fashion,  the  dainty  white-stitched  blue 
gloves  —  even  the  quaint  little  monogram 
pin, 


wrought  in  gold,  the  finishing  ornament 
below  the  V-shaped  collar  opening  that 
left  the  white  throat  free  —  not  a  feature 
was  as  Grannell  had  unconsciously  pic 
tured.  And  least  of  all  had  he  anticipated 
the  certain,  indefinable  air  of  self-control 
and  self-reliance. 

Jim  Gledden,  hackdriver  for  the  village 
hotel,  and  Captain  Klews,  the  one-armed 
postmaster,  gazed  with  undisguised  curi 
osity  after  the  disappearing  car  into  which 
Grannell  had  hurried  his  niece. 

'  Them  two  look  near  enough  alike  to 
be  father  and  daughter,"  Jim  declared. 

"  How'd  you  make  that  out?  Gran- 
nell's  colder'n  a  fish  since  he's  got  so  rich, 
an'  I  see  with  one  eye  that  that  girl's  got 


Cfte  Comer  Sterne  7 

what  you'd  call  magnetism,  an'  it's  a  gift 
of  the  gods,  I  reckon,"  Klews  returned. 

"  Well,  you  say  there's  been  no  end  of 
letters  between  'em,  and  he  begun  it,"  Jim 
Gledden  insisted. 

"  When  Sam  Grannell  begins  things 
whose  benefit  is  he  contendin'  for,  his'n, 
or  somebody  else's?"  the  postmaster 
retorted,  flinging  the  lean  mail  bag  into 
the  empty  hack.  "  He's  let  that  niece  of 
his'n  go  homeless  for  years.  Him  a  wid 
ower  and  childless,  and  getting  well  off 
steady.  Just  payin'  board  somewhere  for 
a  relative  ain't  nothin'  but  cheap  charity 
towards  your  own  flesh  an'  blood.  He's 
working  out  some  scheme  of  his  own  now. 
You  know  that's  his  brand  of  human  kind 


ness." 


Klews  looked  at  the  liftle  dust  cloud 
receding  down  the  long  level  highway,  and 
a  shrewd  twinkle  in  the  gossipy  old  fel 
low's  eyes  told  that  he  had  an  opinion  of 
his  own  about  things.  Edith  Grannell's 
coming  became  his  special  grievance  hence 
forth;  while,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  two  to  differ,  Jim  Gledden  espoused 
her  cause  and  made  it  his  own. 

Meanwhile,  as  Samson  Grannell,  with 
his  niece,  sped  out  toward  the  open  coun 
try  he  was  carefully  bridging  over  the 
years  that  lay  between  the  little  girl  whom 
he  had  known  and  this  charming  self- 
poised  young  lady  for  whom  he  found 
himself  unprepared.  It  is  so  difficult  in 
one's  mind  to  let  children  grow  up. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  glad  to  be  through 
with  school.  Did  you  have  a  big  enough 
check  for  your  commencement?  "  he  asked. 


8          C&e  Corner  Stone 

"  I've  never  needed  for  anything  that 
money  could  get,"  Edith  replied,  "  and  I 
want  to  pay  you  for  your  generosity,  for 
I  can  earn  my  living  and  take  care  of 
myself  now." 

The  village  postmaster  was  right  when 
he  declared  that  "  Samson  Grannell  was 
colder'n  a  fish."  His  face  was  expression 
less  now  as  he  broke  in : 

"  If  you  owe  me  anything  it  is  to  do 
what  I  want  you  to  do." 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  do  anything  I  can  for 
you,"  Edith  declared  with  a  shining  light 
in  her  gray  eyes. 

She  was  not  thinking  of  the  heart-hungry 
years  wherein  he  had  been  to  her  only  a 
name  on  a  bank  draft,  yet  a  half-conscious 
query  rose  in  her  mind  as  to  the  full  extent 
of  such  an  obligation. 

'  Then  don't  speak  about  earning  your 
living  unless  you  want  to  offend  me.  We'll 
settle  that  now." 

The  set  lines  of  Grannell's  mouth  told 
that  he  had  clinched  a  bargain,  while  the 
little  up-curve  of  Edith's  red  lips  hinted 
at  another  mind  than  his.  But  he  could 
not  see  that  then. 

"  Has  the  country  changed  much?  "  he 
questioned  as  indication  that  that  incident 
was  closed. 

"  Everything  seems  changed,"  Edith 
replied.  '  The  old  open  prairie  is  one 
great  wheat  field  now,  and  there  are  no 
trails  left,  only  straight  roads.  Are  they 
all  like  this?" 

"  Most  of  them.  We  follow  section 
lines  now.  There's  only  one  old  fellow 
left  to  freeze  out,  and  then  the  whole 


Cfte  Cornet  ^tone  9 

country  will  be  straight-cut  as  a  checker 
board,"  her  uncle  replied. 

"  I  like  the  trails  best,  maybe  because 
I  remember  them  best,"  Edith  commented. 

"  We  are  going  a  long  distance  out  of 
our  way  this  morning.  I  have  business 
with  a  man  out  here  if  I  can  find  him  at 
home.  But  this  wheat  is  worth  looking 
at  anyhow." 

As  they  made  a  turn  in  the  road  Gran- 
nell  pointed  toward  a  stretch  of  tender 
young  wheat.  Beyond  it  looming  up  from 
the  floor  of  the  prairies  was  Pawnee  Rock, 
a  great  stone  outcrop  for  whose  abrupt 
upheaval  some  old  volcano  must  have 
stoked  its  fires  in  the  forgotten  aeons  of 
time.  Sloping  gently  on  one  side  from  a 
faint  swell,  dim  outline  of  a  prehistoric 
river  bank,  it  breaks  on  the  other  in  a  sheer 
stone  cliff,  isolated  and  majestic.  Like 
the  sphinx  of  the  desert  it  sits,  looking  out 
across  the  level  plains,  and  the  winding 
foolishness  of  the  Arkansas  river  forever 
pushing  its  way  aimlessly  about.  Just 
now  the  bronze  front  made  a  splash  of 
rich  warmth  above  the  vivid  green  at  its 
base,  while  the  gray  crest  softened  into  the 
blue  and  pearl  of  the  sky  above  it. 

"  Oh,  wonderful!  "  Edith  cried.  "  Don't 
you  wish  that  was  on  your  ranch,  Uncle 
Samson?  " 

"What?  The  rock?  There  was  never 
any  wheat  raised  on  it,  nor  anything  else, 
but  h  — "  he  caught  himself.  "No,  I 
don't  want  it.  Every  old  plainsman  has 
his  tale  of  horror  to  tell  about  that  rock. 
It's  the  corner  stone  of  all  the  tragedies 
of  the  Plains.  They  were  all  built  on  it 


10         Cfte  Corner 

or  about  it.  We've  quit  building  on  things 
like  that  now.  Our  best  security  is  a  good 
bank  security." 

A  horse  and  rider  suddenly  stood  put- 
lined  on  the  very  edge  of  the  bluff,  making 
a  statuesque  figure  against  the  skyline.  A 
black  horse  always  has  the  advantage  of 
color,  but  this  one  had  beauty  of  form 
also,  while  its  rider  sat  firm  as  a  cavalry 
man,  looking  out  across  the  landscape, 
unconscious  of  the  heroic  picture  he  and 
his  horse  were  making. 

With  the  splendid  features  of  the  scene 
before  her,  the  words  of  the  man  beside 
her  seemed  sordid  to  Edith.  For  one  long 
minute  she  gazed  upward  as  one  who  turns 
from  weakness  to  strength,  and  the  shadow 
in  her  gray  eyes  was  like  the  shadow  of 
the  cloud  sweeping  across  the  wheat  fields. 

Then  she  said  with  a  smile: 

'  There's  no  tragedy  about  that,  and  it 
seems  to  belong  up  there.  Is  it  set  just  for 
our  benefit?  " 

'  That's  a  young  neighbor  of  mine. 
He  is  the  most  popular  fellow  in  the 
wheat  belt  according  to  what  Captain 
Klews  and  Jim  Gledden,  official  gossips, 
were  saying  down  at  the  station  this  morn 
ing.  They  say  that  all  the  girls  are  crazy 
about  him,  but  it's  a  dead  certainty  he'll 
marry  some  rich  girl,  or  one  with  prospects 
of  money,  or  he  wouldn't  be  his  father's 
son.  He  was  always  a  quiet  sort  of  boy, 
and  generally  keeps  you  guessing."  Gran- 
nell's  expressionless  face  may  have 
changed  a  trifle  as  he  added,  "  He'll  be  a 
big  ranch  owner  one  of  these  days.  He  is 
an  only  son,  and  his  mother  is  a  widow, 


Cfte  Corner  Sterne         u 

one  of  those  women  who  is  set  in  her  ways. 

I  hope  you  will  get  acquainted  with  him 

soon." 

There  was  a  dangerous  light  in  the  girl's 

eyes,  but  her  mouth  was  forcibly  demure 

as  she  replied: 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  in  his  class.     He 

sounds  like  a  cad  from  this  distance.      I 

suppose  he  is  a  crushing  flirt,  too." 

"  Oh,  a  fellow  in  his  position,  popular 

with  everybody,  is  bound  to  be  more  or 

less  of  that,  I  suppose.     It  seems  to  make 

life    interesting,    but    they    get    over    it." 

Grannell  was  not  "Mite  sure  of  his  ground. 
"  And  what  is  the  name  of  the  young 

wheat-belt  prince?  "  Edith  asked. 

"  Homer  Helm.     You  may  remember 

him." 

Grannell  was  looking  down  the  straight 
road  before  him,  as  if  he  were  looking 
down  the  years  of  time.  Edith's  head 
drooped  a  little,  for  she  was  thinking  back 
to  one  sweet  day  when  her  only  playmate, 
a  freckle-faced  little  boy  with  big  dark 
eyes,  a  boy  two  years  her  senior  but  not 
nearly  so  tall  as  herself,  had  come  for  a 
last  play  .with  her.  The  pink  deepened  on 
her  cheek  as  she  remembered  that  he  had 
kissed  her  good-bye,  the  only  good-bye  kiss 
that  had  been  given  her  when  she  left  the 
West.  That  little  boy  was  Homer  Helm, 
and  the  memory  of  that  good-bye  kiss  had 
been  a  sacred  possession  in  the  poverty  of 
a  loveless  childhood.  To  her  mind  he  had 
never  grown  up,  but  was  still  the  little  boy 
of  that  far-off  day,  and  she  wanted  to  keep 
him  so. 

It    was    almost    noon    before    the    two 


12         Cfte  Corner  §>tone 

reached  the  end  of  their  journey.  At  the 
crest  of  a  prairie  swell  a  strip  of  woodland 
with  a  bit  of  open  pasture  lying  beyond 
came  suddenly  to  view.  It  was  carefully 
fenced  along  its  irregular  outline,  save  for 
a  bit  of  grove  opening  on  the  roadway. 

Down  the  slope  of  this  swell  from  which 
almost  every  foot  of  the  Grannell  ranch 
might  be  seen,  the  stiff,  sunny  road  gave 
place  to  a  winding  way  under  trees  green 
with  May  leafage.  Here  and  there  a  bit 
of  stone  outcrop  put  in  a  picturesque  touch, 
and  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope  a  little 
stream  offered  that  rare  thing  in  Kansas, 
a  real  rock-bottom  ford.  It  was  such  a 
spot  as  calls  up  to  the  newcomer  tender 
memories  of  clear  brooks  in  eastern  wood 
lands.  Grannell  shut  off  his  engine  and 
paused  awhile  where  the  trees  threw  their 
cool  shadows  across  the  way. 

"  I  don't  remember  this  part  of  the 
road,"  Edith  said,  half-conscious  of  its 
appeal.  "  Is  it  put  here  to  make  folks 
homesick?  " 

'  We  didn't  come  this  way  in  the  old 
days,"  her  uncle  replied.  "  The  Gran 
nell  ranch  and  the  Helm  ranch  hadn't 
extended  their  boundaries  so  far  and  gath 
ered  in  so  much  of  this  ground  then.  I 
always  stop  here  to  be  sure  my  tires  are 
all  right  before  I  try  that  hill  down  to 
the  ford;  or  to  look  at  the  ranch  over 
there  in  the  sunshine;  or  just  from  force 
of  habit,  maybe.  You  know  habits  tighten 
on  us  as  we  get  by  forty-five." 

Edith  looked  pensively  down  the  cool 
length  of  road  invitingly  comfortable  after 
the  straight,  unshaded  highway.  There 


Cfce  Corner  Stone         13 

was  no  voice  in  the  air  of  that  May  morn 
ing  to  tell  her  that  this  was  a  battle  ground 
for  a  struggle  in  which  she  was  to  have  no 
small  part. 

"  It  is  a  good  place  to  rest  in.  I  hope 
it  will  always  be  here,"  she  said  thought 
fully. 

"  It's  useless  to  hope  that,"  Grannell 
declared.  "  It's  the  last  of  the  trails,  and 
Noel  Waverly,  the  old  sissy  who  owns  the 
ground,  won't  give  up  to  have  it  changed; 
so  the  road  winds  down  here,  crooked  as 
a  snake's  track,  to  the  ford.  But  we'll 
burn  him  out  before  long.  He's  cut  off 
on  one  side  now.  Some  of  these  days  we'll 
shut  up  this  road,  and  bridge  the  creek 
straight  ahead,  leaving  him  with  no  outlet. 
The  county  commissioners  have  tried  sev 
eral  times  to  put  a  bridge  down  there,  but 
I've  fought  it  every  time,  pending  the 
changes  bound  to  come.  They'll  try  to 
get  one  through  this  fall,  but  I'll  see  to 
it  that  it's  only  a  cheap  temporary  affair. 
Waverly  is  a  stubborn  fellow,  the  last  of 
the  old  plainsmen;  still  living,  in  mind, 
back  in  the  days  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 
He  loves  a  cart  and  oxen  yet,  and  he 
wouldn't  trade  a  stout  old  pony  of  his, 
that  he  calls  *  Kit  Carson,'  for  the  finest 
touring  car  ever  turned  out.  But  his  time's 
coming." 

"Who  will  bring  it  to  him?"  Edith 
inquired. 

"  Oh,  the  fellow  you  saw  up  on  Pawnee 
Rock  has  the.biggest  grip.  But  we'll  all 
help  him.  We've  quit  living  in  the  fifties 
out  here;  we  are  in  the  march  of  the  twen 
tieth  century." 


14         Cfte  Cornet  §>tone 

Suddenly  there  came  to  Edith  the 
memory  of  long  summer  Sabbath  after 
noons  with  the  same  little  freckle-faced, 
brown-eyed  boy  again.  There  was  a  plain 
home  under  big  cottonwood  trees,  with  a 
gray-bearded  man  on  the  doorstep  telling 
stories  of  Indians  and  wagon  trains,  of 
blazing  heat,  and  no  water  nearer  than 
the  sand-baked  Arkansas  river,  of  scalp- 
ings,  and  arrow-wounds,  and  miraculous 
rescues  for  beautiful  women,  till  the 
shadows  lengthened,  and  the  little  girl  and 
boy  trotted  home,  hand  clutched  in  hand, 
half  afraid  of  a  Pawnee  raid  out  of  yellow 
wheat  stubble,  or  the  war  whoop  of  the 
Cheyennes  from  the  brown  grasses.  . 

But  the  memory  vanished  as  Edith 
caught  sight  of  a  blue  sunbonnet  pushed 
back  from  a  tangle  of  frowzy  golden  curls, 
and  a  little  round  face,  pink  as  a  peach 
blossom,  with  big  blue  eyes  staring  at 
her  from  a  thin  screen  of  bushes  beside 
the  road. 

To  see  the  child  shut  in  with  brown 
grasses  and  gray  shrubbery,  with  the  shim 
mer  of  overhead  green  and  the  still 
shadowy  valley  behind  her,  was  like  finding 
a  living  picture  in  a  tarnished  old  frame. 
When  she  found  herself  discovered  the 
little  one  who  had  been  watching  the  auto 
mobile  and  listening  to  all  that  had  been 
said,  disappeared  in  a  thick  clump  of  pic 
turesque  greenery  a  little  distance  from 
the  road. 

"  Whose  child  is  that?  "  Edith  asked. 

"  That  is  little  Faith  Clover,  Noel 
Waverly's  grandchild,  the  old  cuss  who 
won't  give  up  this  crooked  trail  for  a  de- 


Cfce  Cornet:  Stone         15 

cent  road.  He  wouldn't  put  her  into  an 
orphan  asylum.  When  a  man  is  tied  to 
his  home  like  that  he  knocks  the  corner 
stone  out  from  under  his  prosperity  —  and 
prosperity  is  the  corner  stone  of  life  with 
us.  And  besides,  the  youngster  didn't  need 
him.  Anybody  can  take  care  of  a  child. 
He  was  a  hard-headed,  hard-fisted  fighter 
in  his  younger  years.  Never  asked  nor 
gave  quarter  to  anybody.  But  that  child 
has  made  a  change  in  him.  Another  spurt 
now  and  we'll  be  at  the  ranch.  There's  a 
short  cut  by  the  footpath  up  from  the  ford, 
but  it's  a  good  half  mile  by  the  road." 

Grannell's  tone  changed  with  the  last 
sentence  as  he  gripped  the  steering  wheel 
and  sent  the  car  forward  with  an  easy 
swing. 

As  for  Edith  she  was  beginning  already 
to  understand  why  for  twelve  years  she 
had  known  her  uncle  only  as  a  name  on  a 
bank  draft,  and  she  was  glad  that  the  fair- 
haired  little  orphan  who  had  cuddled  down 
in  the  bushes  behind  them  would  never  feel 
the  loneliness  she  had  felt. 

Samson  Grannell's  commodious  farm 
house,  with  all  the  modern  equipments  of 
a  city  dwelling,  carried  a  welcome  to  all 
who  were  invited  within  its  doors  (Gran- 
nell  never  invited  those  who  were  not 
welcome),  and  its  most  hospitable  offer 
ings  were  awaiting  the  coming  of  Edith 
Grannell. 

After  their  lunch  together  her  uncle 
said:  "  I'm  going  to  leave  you  alone  here 
to  get  yourself  adjusted.  I  shall  be  busy 
all  this  afternoon.  By  the  way,  what  is 
your  favorite  pastime?  " 


16         Cfte  Cornet 


"  I've  wanted  to  ride  horses  ever  since 
I  was  here  years  ago.  I'm  not  one  bit 
afraid,  and  I'm  sure  I  could  learn  easily," 
Edith  replied. 

She  did  not  see  the  gleam  of  approval 
in  Grannell's  eyes,  nor  the  lines  of  satis 
faction  settling  about  his  lips  as  he  left 
her.  Evidently  things  were  working  to  his 
liking. 

Late  that  afternoon  as  she  came  out 
to  the  veranda,  Edith  caught  sight  of  a 
handsome  cream-colored  horse  being  led 
by  someone  down  the  driveway  toward 
the  barns. 

"  I  wonder  whose  horse  that  is,"  she 
thought,  as  it  disappeared.  Then  her  mind 
ran  into  other  lines. 

"  Everything  is  interesting  here.  Uncle 
Samson  most  of  all.  He  is  literally  mar 
ried  to  money  and  to  having  his  own  way. 
I  can  see  that  already.  He  doesn't  seem 
to  want  me  to  feel  my  obligation  to  him 
but  he  says  I  owe  it  to  him  to  do  what 
he  wants  me  to  do.  That's  all  right,  Uncle 
Samson,  up  to  a  point.  If  it's  lazy  living 
off  a  rich  uncle  when  this  visit's  over, 
there'll  be  two  Grannells  with  two  minds." 

The  girl  was  so  bewitchingly  pretty  with 
the  beauty  of  one  born  to  ease,  coupled 
with  the  charm  of  one  who  is  wholesomely 
self  dependent,  that  she  might  well  have 
broken  a  harder  will  than  Samson  Gran 
nell's. 

"  He  says  I'll  offend  him  if  I  speak  of 
earning  my  own  living.  How  does  he 
think  I  can  live  then?  Maybe  he  thinks 
I  could  capture  that  popular  snob  who  is 
so  sought  after,  but  who  must  have  a  rich 


Cfte  Corner  ®tone         17 

wife  or  a  girl  with  '  prospects.'  I  have 
4  prospects  '  —  plenty  of  them.  They  are 
my  stock  in  trade.  I  wouldn't  have  him 
nor  his  to-be  heritage,"  she  added  half 
aloud  with  a  scorn  in  her  eyes,  and  a  curl 
of  her  lips.  "  But  if  he  comes  trying  to 
impress  me  with  his  importance  I  can  play 
the  game  out  for  the  fun  of  it.  That's 
not  the  little  Homer  Helm  I  used  to  know, 
though." 

A  sadness  followed  the  scorn,  and  she 
resolved  not  to  think  of  him  again.  But 
for  all  her  resolves  the  figure  of  the  horse 
and  rider  on  the  verge  of  the  bluff  came 
back  to  her  all  that  day,  and  her  dreams 
that  night  were  all  of  a  little  playmate, 
hardly  so  tall  as  her  shoulder,  suddenly 
standing  like  a  giant  on  the  edge  of  a  high 
place  like  the  gray  edge  of  Pawnee  Rock. 


II 


God  took  care  to  hide  that  country  till  He  judged  His 

people  ready, 
Then  He  chose  me  for  His  Whisper,  and  I've  found  it, 

and  it's  yours ! 

—  KIPLING. 

TN  the  twilight  of  this  May  day  little 
Faith  Clover  sat  beside  her  grand 
father  watching  the  afterglow  of  sunset 
through  the  cottonwood  trees.  Old  Noel 
Waverly  called  his  home  "  The  Shadows." 
Forty  years  before,  there  had  been  here 
only  a  few  bushes  growing  along  a  dry 
draw  in  the  prairie;  today  a  veritable 
woodland  followed  the  windings  of  the 
creek.  But  the  trees  had  been  of  Noel's 
planting.  His  hands  had  brought  water 
to  them  in  their  early  struggle  for  a  foot 
ing.  Tenderly  he  had  guarded  them 
against  roving  stock  and  drouth  and 
prairie  fire  until  the  years  when,  tall,  and 
green,  and  strong,  they  protected  him  from 
the  heat  and  moved  the  heavens  to  more 
generous  rainfall  in  the  day  of  drouth. 
The  old  plainsman  had  seen  the  passing 
out  of  the  prairie  wilderness  and  the  in 
coming  of  twentieth  century  progress.  He 
had  seen,  too,  the  passing  out  of  wife  and 
children;  had  seen  his  once  big  cattle  range 
dwindle  to  a  few  acres.  And  now,  with 
the  snows  of  seventy-five  winters  on  his 
head,  he  was  ranchman  (in  a  small  way), 
[18] 


Cfte  Corner  ^tone         19 

gardener,  and  housekeeper,  as  well  as 
father,  mother,  and  companion  to  his  little 
grandchild,  the  last  of  the  Waverly  blood 
he  should  ever  know.  Withal,  he  was 
hale  and  rugged  beyond  the  strength  of 
many  younger  men,  and,  with  the  wisdom 
of  experience,  acute  to  read  men's  motives 
and  forecast  results. 

Faith's  playground  was  in  the  open 
woodland  between  the  house  and  the  road; 
here  because  she  was  companionless  and 
alone,  she  dwelt  in  an  imaginary  realm 
which,  like  all  children  of  normal  minds, 
she  peopled  to  suit  her  fancy. 

"Tell  me  the  story,  Dando."  Faith 
was  almost  eight  years  old,  but  she  still 
clung  to  her  baby  name  for  her  grand 
father.  Nestling  against  his  side  tonight, 
she  cuddled  down  to  listen. 

"  It's  just  the  same  old  tale,  Faith.  You 
tell  me  one,"  her  grandfather  replied. 

"  You  tell  me  first,"  Faith  insisted. 

"  Well,  once  on  a  time  there  was  an  old 
man  and  his  daughter  and  two  plainsmen 
on  Pawnee  Rock  waiting  for  a  wagon  train 
from  the  fort  to  come  along.  The  old 
man  and  the  younger  ones  went  down  to 
the  river  for  water  and  left  the  girl  up 
there  alone.  And  a  young  scout  was  away 
on  the  prairies  at  sunset  and  the  Indians 
surprised  him.  They  were  Comanches  on 
the  warpath  and  he  rode  and  rode." 

"To  Pawnee  Rock?"  Faith  asked 
eagerly. 

"  Yes,  toward  it,  but  the  Indians  were 
gaining  on  him,  and  his  pony  stumbled  into 
a  prairie  dog's  hole  it  must  have  been,  and 
fell,  breaking  its  leg." 


20         Cfte  Cornet 


"And  then,  what?"  Faith  questioned 
eagerly. 

'  Then  he  ran,  and  ran  on  foot  toward 
the  rock.  But  the  arrows  whizzed  after 
him  and  he  would  have  perished  in  its 
shadow  only  suddenly  —  " 

"  What?  "  Faith's  blue  eyes  shone,  like 
stars  in  the  twilight. 

u  Suddenly  a  rifle  shot  right  over  his 
head  hit  the  nearest  Indian,  and  another, 
and  another,  all  coming  from  the  top  of 
the  rock.  The  young  girl,  oh,  such  a  pretty 
girl,  with  big  blue  eyes,  and  golden  hair  — 
her  name  was  Mary."  Noel  Waverly's 
voice  was  low  and  tender. 

'  That  was  my  grandmamma,  Dando, 
and  she  saved  you  that  evening.  And  she 
said  she'd  be  my  grandmamma  for  you 
always  and  always.  I  wasn't  here  then, 
but  that  didn't  make  no  difference  to  her, 
and  what  else?  " 

"  Nothing  else."  The  voice  was  still 
tender. 

'  You  learned  to  love  my  grandmamma 
on  Pawnee  Rock." 

"  And  I  loved  her  always  —  love  her 
now,"  the  old  man  said  softly. 

"  Do  folks  that  love  on  Pawnee  Rock 
love  always  and  always?  "  Faith  asked. 

"  Always  and  always,"  Noel  Waverly 
replied. 

"  Is  Pawnee  Rock  very  far  away?  "  the 
little  one  questioned. 

"  Not  very  far  when  you  go  in  a  gaso 
line  outfit,  but  a  good  long  way  for  our 
old  Kit  Carson  to  trot.  I'll  take  you  there 
some  time  —  you  little  shut-in  child,"  he 
added  under  his  breath,  "  so  innocent  of 


Cfte  Cornet  Stone         21 

the  world  outside  of  this  tiny  place,  so  won 
derful  in  the  world  of  your  imagination." 

'  Then  I'll  make  my  people  live  on 
Pawnee  Rock,"  the  little  girl  declared. 

"Your  people?" 

1  Yes,  all  my  beautiful  people.  They 
are  really  truly  people,"  Faith  explained. 
u  There's  nobody  else  to  play  with,  and 
I  can  make  them  all  so  pretty,  and  good, 
or  bad,  just  like  I  want  them." 

"Oh,  you  little  dreamer!  "  her  grand 
father  said,  softly  stroking  her  tangled 
curls.  '  You  are  a  lonely  child." 

"  No,  I'm  not,  Dando.  I  have  my  brave 
young  scout  and  my  beautiful  girl  when 
ever  I  want  them.  I  saw  her  today.  Oh, 
I  was  going  to  tell  you  a  story." 

"  I'm  listening,"  the  old  man  said. 

"  Well,  I  was  down  in  the  fairies'  bush 
by  the  old  Santa  Fe  Trail  where  I  play 
like  it  crosses  the  big  Missouri  river,  and 
a  great  wagon  train  and  sixty  yokes  of 
oxens,  all  full  of  people  came  by,  and  they 
had  to  run  and  hide  in  the  woods  for  they 
.thought  the  Pawnees  were  coming.  But 
it  wasn't.  It  was  a  big  automobile  and  a 
beautiful  lady,  enough  to  be  a  grand 
mamma,  was  in  it,  and  a  big  man.  I  think 
he  was  an  Indian.  They  stopped  a  long 
time  in  the  shade  right  by  my  castle,  you 
know,  and  I  heard  them  talking.  The  big 
man  said  *  Noel  Waverly  is  an  old  sissy 
and  —  and  —  crooked  as  a  snake's  track/ 
and  he  said  *  I'll  burn  him  up  and  cut  off 
one  side.  He's  an  old  cuss.'  That's 
what  he  said.  But  the  lady  was  just  as 
sweet  as  if  I'd  made  her." 

"  Oh,  you  strange  little  romance-maker! 


22         Cfoe  Corner 


Faith,  how  much  of  this  is  really  true?" 
Waverly  asked. 

"All  of  it,  Dando,"  Faith  answered 
gravely. 

"No,  you  are  making  up  part  of  it," 
her  grandfather  insisted. 

"Which  part?"   Faith  asked. 

The  evening  shadows  were  too  deep  to 
catch  the  twinkle  in  her  roguish  eyes. 

'  Why,  the  man  isn't  an  Indian.  He 
is  Samson  Grannell.  He  is  trying  to  get 
Mrs.  Helm  and  her  son  to  shut  up  our 
road  and  force  us  to  sell  this  little  place  to 
him  and  Mrs.  Helm  so  they  can  run  sec 
tion-line  roads,  and  cut  down  all  our  trees 
and  straighten  the  creek  and  make  a  great 
wheat  field  of  this  beautiful  grove  your 
grandmamma  loved." 

"  Don't  let  him  do  it,  Dando,"  Faith 
urged. 

"  I  never  will."  Noel  Waverly  set  his 
jaws  sternly.  He  was  a  stubborn  man. 
Only  stubborn  men,  his  kind  of  men,  could 
have  conquered  the  Plains  and  made  the 
wheat  belt  possible.  "  He's  got  some 
scheme  afoot  now.  Maybe  that's  why  he 
sent  for  this  girl  to  come  out  here." 

"  Maybe  there  will  be  a  lover  for  her 
like  the  pretty  girl  with  the  rifle,"  Faith 
suggested.  And  then  the  tired  little  head 
drooped  against  the  old  man's  arm,  and 
the  busy  brain  was  still  in  slumber. 

Noel  Waverly  sat  in  the  shadowy  silence 
long  after  Faith  had  gone  to  sleep. 

"  I'm  an  old  man,  now,"  he  mused,  half 
aloud.  "  Nearly  all  my  land  is  gone.  The 
big  Helm  ranch  and  the  big  Grannell  ranch 
are  swallowing  up  what  I  used  to  call 


Cfte  Corner  ^tone         23 

mine.  I  wasn't  a  fortune  builder.  I  cut 
sod  for  other  men  to  build  on.  And  now 
all  that's  left  to  me  is  a  few  head  of  stock, 
a  garden,  and  a  truck  patch,  and  this  strip 
of  woodland  pasture  following  the  wind 
ing  of  the  creek  so  many  rods  on  either 
side  —  less  than  seventy  acres  across  the 
last  quarter  of  it  —  this  woodland  that  I 
planted,  '  The  Shadows  '  that  Mary  loved. 
I've  kept  it  with  its  crooked  bounds 
fenced  and  marked  in  memory  of  her. 
What  difference  does  it  make  that  the 
boundaries  are  curves  instead  of  section 
lines?  The  rivers  wind  in  and  out,  the 
prairies  ripple  like  waves  of  the  sea,  the 
sky  is  a  dome.  You  can't  straighten 
the  rainbow.  Life  is  made  up  of  curves, 
too  —  lines  of  beauty,  as  well  as  sharp 
angles  of  fact.  And  we  were  so  happy 
here,  Mary  and  I,  for  we  loved  each 
other.  You  may  buy  acres  and  acres  of 
wheat  land  with  money  and  you  may  build 
a  fine  house  with  money,  but  '  the  life  is 
more  than  meat,  and  the  body  than  rai 
ment,'  and  the  corner  stone  of  a  home  is 
love." 

Then  the  old  man  stiffened  in.  his  chair 
and  his  face  grew  stern. 

"I  remember  when  Grannell  was  poor 
enough,  him  and  his  wife,  living  in  a  little 
three-roomed  house  out  on  the  prairie. 
She  died  early.  Maybe  if  he'd  put  the 
real  corner  stone  under  that  little  three- 
roomed  house  she  might  have  lived. 
Now  he's  a  graspin'  widower  whose  only 
god  is  money.  Prosperity  does  that  for 
some  men.  He's  shut  me  in  on  his  side  of 
the  ranch.  And  he  knows  that  Isabel  Helm 


24         Cfte  Cornet 


holds  the  mortgage  on  my  place."  The 
old  man's  face  was  gray  with  the  shadow 
of  calamity.  '  That  mortgage  was  due 
thirty  days  ago.  I  wonder  if  Grannell 
knows  that.  Of  course  he  does.  And  it's 
hard  sleddin'  even  to  pay  interest.  But 
she  won't  foreclose  on  me,  nor  shut  up  my 
road  out  of  here  as  long  as  she  has  the 
say  about  things.  Homer  gets  everything 
in  his  name  when  he  marries.  I  wonder 
what  he'll  do.  He's  a  quiet  boy  and  no 
body  knows  what  he  thinks." 

A  new  thought  leaped  up  in  Waverly's 
mind. 

"  Grannell's  up  to  some  scheme,  or  he'd 
never  have  sent  for  that  niece  of  his  to 
come  back  now."  He  stroked  the  sleep 
ing  child's  golden  hair  with  a  loving  hand. 
"  Poor  little  Faith  !  You've  had  some 
body  to  love  you  always,  while  that  little 
girl  has  lived  among  strangers  till  now. 
Now!  Well,  I  know  Grannell's  breed. 
He  wants  to  freeze  me  out  of  *  The 
Shadows,'  and  he'll  never  stop  till  he's 
tried  every  means.  I  believe  I  can  see  the 
beginning  of  the  end  in  this  move.  But 
I  won't  give  up  yet." 

In  spite  of  his  burdened  mind,  there  was 
a  spark  of  the  old-time  daring  in  Noel 
Waverly's  eyes  as  if  he  sniffed  a  new  dan 
ger  of  the  Plains  that  he  must  outwit. 


Ill 


And  our  pathway  wound  through  the  fields  of  wheat; 
Narrow  that  path  and  rough  the  way, 
But  he  was  near  and  the  birds  sang  true, 
And  the  stars  came  out  in  the  twilight  gray ; 
Oh !  it  was  sweet  in  the  evening  time ! 

T  ITTLE  Faith  Clover  was  in  Clover 
•"  Castle,  a  cunning  bower,  which  Na 
ture  and  her  grandfather's  loving  hands 
had  wrought  for  her  in  the  grove  near  the 
road.  Here,  unseen  herself,  she  could  see 
.her  old  Santa  Fe  Trail,  and  her  Missouri 
river  (the  rock-bottomed  ford),  the  In 
dian  tepees  in  the  distance  where  the  silos 
on  the  Grannell  ranch  stood  up  tall  and 
white,  and  even  Pawnee  Rock  —  the  red 
roof  of  the  big  Helm  cattle  barns.  No 
body  passing  up  or  down  the  trail  escaped 
her  eyes,  and  she  made  a  story  for  each 
one.  The  isolated  child  had,  perforce,  to 
build  a  world  of  her  own,  and  she  inter 
wove  the  seen  and  unseen  so  closely  that 
she  herself  could  not  say  which  was  real 
and  which  only  fancy. 

Faith  was  giving  a  tea  party  for  her 
doll,  a  poor  enough  rag  affair,  but  en 
dowed  with  all  beauty  and  charm  by  the 
child's  ready  imagination,  and  forty  other 
doll  guests  were  beginning  to  arrive  from 
Japan  and  London  and  Larned,  Kansas, 
when  a  real  prince  came  riding  out  of 
fairyland  in  search  of  a  princess.  So 
[25] 


26         Cfte  Cornet 


Faith  dropped  the  social  function,  to  make 
a  princess  for  him.  It  was  so  like  a  real 
story  that  Faith  had  no  trouble  "  fixing  the 
corners,"  as  she  phrased  it,  when  she  built 
romances  out  of  "  dream  stuff  "  only. 

Homer  Helm  riding  up  the  Waverly 
line  to  look  after  the  fences,  came  whis 
tling  along  the  shady  bound  of  the  wheat 
field. 

He  was  a  stalwart  young  fellow,  six  feet 
in  height  with  physique  to  match.  His 
face  had  the  ruddy  tinge  of  outdoor  coun 
try  life,  not  the  hard  brown  of  the  farm 
drudge,  for  he  was  a  master,  not  a  serv 
ant,  of  the  soil. 

u  Poor  old  Waverly!  "  he  muttered,  as 
he  slid  from  his  horse. 

Slipping  the  rein  over  his  arm,  he  began 
to  stiffen  up  a  weak  spot  in  the  fence  with 
the  hatchet  he  carried. 

As  he  stooped  to  his  task,  his  horse 
suddenly  reared,  jerking  the  rein  on  his 
master's  arm. 

"  Ho,  Blackstone!  what's  the  matter 
now?  "  he  spoke  quietly. 

"  It's  the  princess  coming.  I  didn't 
have  to  make  her,  she  is  real,"  Faith 
Clover  exclaimed  excitedly  behind  the 
bushes.  But  Homer  did  not  hear  her. 
Neither  did  the  princess. 

Edith  Grannell  was  coming  up  the  steep 
slope  from  the  creek,  carrying  a  basket  of 
wild  flowers  and  a  little  white  linen  jacket 
that  matched  the  white  linen  dress  she 
wore.  Bareheaded,  with  her  rich  brown 
hair  catching  the  glint  of  the  sunlight  in  its 
heavy  fold,  and  her  eyes  with  the  startled 
look  in  them,  she  was  wondrously  hand- 


Cfte  Corner  @>tone         27 

some  just  now.  Any  young  prince's  heart 
would  beat  faster  at  sight  of  her. 

Ordinarily,  Homer  Helm  would  have 
lifted  his  hat  and  turned  away.  From  his 
side  of  the  equation  he  was  no  ladies'  man. 
He  had  always  been  a  quiet  boy  with  a 
dignity  that  wras  misjudged  shyness.  Yet 
since  he  had  come  home  from  college  to 
manage  his  mother's  ranch  he  had  been 
the  lion  of  the  community.  He  was  young 
and  handsome  after  the  strong,  rugged 
type  of  manly  good  looks;  reserved,  but, 
to  those  who  knew  him  well,  of  innately 
winning  manners. 

He  was  as  yet  only  the  representative 
of  his  mother.  Isabel  Helm  was  a  strong- 
minded  quiet  woman,  of  kindly  disposition, 
and  strangely  handsome  because  of  her 
dark  eyes  and  the  pretty  pink  flush  forever 
coming  and  going  on  her  cheeks. 

At  this  unlocked  for  meeting  Edith 
Grannell  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  did  I  frighten  your 
horse?  "  she  asked. 

The  voice  stirred  a  curious  vibration 
to  life  in  the  young  man's  memory. 

"  Oh,  no!  he  can  always  find  something 
to  rear  up  over.  He  keeps  on  the  lookout 
for  that,"  Homer  replied,  conscious  that 
he  was  staring  at  this  white-robed  figure; 
at  the  round  white  arms  below  the  lace  at 
the  elbows;  at  the  gold  monogram, 


at  the  shapely  throat;  at  the  face  crowned 
with  lustrous  hair,  and  eyes  the  color  of 
cloud-shadows  on  brown  prairie  grasses. 


28         Cfte  Corner  Stone 

"  He  is  very  handsome  anyhow."  Edith 
looked  admiringly  at  Blackstone  and 
turned  to  pass  on  her  way. 

Then  came  that  strange  phenomenon  of 
youth.  Passing  around  the  corner  of  the 
Helm  and  Waverly  fences,  Homer  mo 
mentarily  blocked  her  way.  He  had  no 
idea  who  she  might  be,  but  he  did  not 
want  to  end  the  interview  here. 

"  Do  you  like  horses?  "  he  asked. 

"  Better  than  anything  else,"  Edith  re 
plied.  "  If  I  want  to  take  the  shortest 
cut  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  with 
fewest  stop-over  privileges,  I'll  take  a 
touring  car,  but  when  I  want  to  live  and 
see  the  life  about  me,  I  prefer  a  thorough 
bred." 

There  was  a  bran-new  seven  passenger 
beauty  in  a  new  garage  beyond  the  red 
cattle  barns,  and  Homer  had  never  known 
a  girl  before  who  didn't  prefer  a  car  to 
any  other  vehicle.  Yet  here  was  one  who 
smiled  at  him,  but  not  on  him,  coolly  de 
claring  her  preference  for  a  thoroughbred 
roadster.  Unconsciously  this  girl  was  cut 
ting  his  self-complacency,  too,  but  she  was 
none  the  less  interesting  for  that. 

u  I  am  going  to  have  a  splendid  cream- 
colored  saddle-horse  as  soon  as  it  is 
trained,"  Edith  went  on.  u  Its  name  is 
White  Rock.  I  think  there  is  something 
of  the  Pawnee  Indian  about  me,  for  I  love 
to  ride.  Do  you  think  horses  are  so  very 
dangerous  for  women  to  manage?" 

In  spite  of  her  prejudice  against  the 
grown-up  Hpmer  Helm,  Edith  was  finding 
it  easy  to  talk  to  him. 

Homer  looked  at   Blackstone   to  hide 


Cfte  Cornet  §>tone         29 

his  surprise,  for  he  was  the  owner  of  the 
cream-colored  horse  in  question. 

"  I  am  sure  White  Rock  is  not.  I  am 
selling  him  to  the  Grannell  ranch  myself, 
and  I'm  training  him  now.  I  didn't  know 
who  it  was  for.  Samson  Grannell  bar 
gained  for  him  a  week  ago,  if  I'd  get  him 
trained  fit  for  a  woman's  hand.  I  sup 
posed  he  had  some  good  buyer,  and  he 
was  getting  a  commission." 

'  Tell  me  all  about  his  traits  and  tricks 
—  the  horse's  I  mean;  then  it  won't  take 
so  long  for  me  to  get  to  ride  him." 

"  Won't  you  sit  down?  " 

Homer  threw  Blackstone's  rein  over  the 
fence  post  with  the  words,  and  the  two  sat 
down  opposite  each  other  on  a  low  rock 
outcrop. 

*  They  are  over  the  line  into  my  fairy 
land;  they  belong  to  me,"  little  Faith 
Clover  declared,  her  big  eyes  fastened  on 
the  two  unconscious  of  her  presence. 

Above  them  the  leafy  branches  swayed 
gently  in  the  breezes  of  May.  Before 
them  the  wheat  rippled  softly  up  to  the 
curving  bound  of  "  The  Shadows."  Be 
hind  them  the  wooded  valley  rested  in  the 
quiet  of  the  early  summer  afternoon.  And 
far  overhead  hung  the  great  fathomless 
arch  of  the  heavens  with  clouds  of  pearl 
drifting  far  away  in  its  dreamy  azure 
depths. 

"  I  am  "Miss  Grannell,  Samson  Gran- 
nell's  niece.  I  have  come  here  to  visit  for 
the  summer,"  Edith  explained,  reverting 
gracefully  to  conventional  demands. 

Everything  was  changed  with  this 
simple  introduction.  Heretofore  Homer 


so         Cbe  Cottier 


Helm  had  had  little  interest,  except  busi 
ness  interest,  in  Samson  Grannell  or  his 
relatives. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  here."  Homer 
knew  he  was  getting  on  awkwardly,  for 
his  first  impulse  was  to  rise  and  shake 
hands.  "  I  am  Homer  Helm.  Our  ranch 
joins  Grannell's,  except  where  this  little 
wiggle  of  grove  and  pasture  along  the 
creek  divides  us.  It  is  a  pretty  place,  un 
profitable  though  for  all  of  us,  and  a 
losing  game  for  old  man  Waverly.  He's 
mortgaged  to  the  limit." 

Big,  and  handsome,  and  capable  to  do 
or  to  undo,  the  speaker  appeared  as  he 
said  this.  Edith  recalled  what  her  uncle 
had  said  about  the  disastrous  future  await 
ing  Noel  Waverly.  It  was  not  the  sun 
shine  but  the  shadow  that  came  into  her 
gray  eyes,  with  Homer's  words. 

"  Tell  me  about  this  old  Noel  Waverly. 
We  can  talk  of  White  Rock  afterward," 
she  urged. 

It  was  delicious  to  hear  her  speak  so 
familiarly  of  the  things  so  common  to  him. 
It  seemed  to  make  her  presence  perma 
nent.  He  had  been  feeling  from  the  first 
moment  of  the  interview  that  this  was  the 
only  time  they  would  ever  talk  together. 

"  I've  known  him  all  my  life.  He  used 
to  tell  me  tales  of  the  Plains  —  he  was  a 
freighter  in  the  early  days  —  and  of  old 
Pawnee  Rock.  Many  a  summer  after 
noon  I've  listened  to  his  stories,  till  I  was 
afraid  to  go  home." 

Homer  Helm  paused.  The  red  color 
surged  into  his  face,  then  ebbed  away, 
leaving  it  very  pale. 


Cfte  Corner  Stone         31 

u  Are  you  Edith,  the  little  girl  I  used 
to  know,  who  went  away  so  long  ago?  " 
he  asked. 

Something  in  his  deep  voice  was  appeal 
ing. 

4  Yes,  I  am  Edith  who  went  away  so 
long  ago." 

For  one  long  moment  they  looked  at 
each  other  and  neither  could  guess  the 
other's  thoughts. 

"  I  remember  that  you  were  freckled 
and  wore  a  pink  sunbonnet  on  the  back  of 
your  neck,"  Homer  declared  at  length, 
chopping  at  a  bush  with  his  hatchet. 

"  I  remember  that  you  were  not  nearly 
so  tall  as  I,  and  that  you  always  had  a 
finger  tied  up  with  a  more  or  less  sanitary 
looking  rag,"  Edith  answered. 

Homer  laughed  and  looked  at  his  large 
shapely  hands. 

"  I  was  an  unfortunate  cuss,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  still  that  way.  I  broke  an  arm  be 
fore  I  was  fourteen,  and  a  leg  on  the  col 
lege  gridiron.  I  broke  my  head  in  a  race 
at  the  county  fair.  I've  broken  a  good 
many  of  the  ten  commandments,  and  about 
everything  else,  except  my  heart  —  and 
it's  not  altogether  immune.  Just  now  I'm 
breaking  a  deliciously  vicious  colt  for  Mr. 
Samson  Grannell;  and  I  may  even  try  to 
break  into  good  society  some  time." 

u  Breakers  ahead!  Do  all  the  young 
men  out  here  have  as  much  energy  as  you 
have?  "  Edith  inquired. 

Homer  wondered  if  she  was  covertly 
ridiculing  him  and  his  kind,  holding  the 
social  life  of  the  wheat  belt  in  a  sort  of 
contempt. 


32         Cfte  Corner 


"  We  are  a  fairly  energetic  lot  out 
here,"  he  answered  with  seeming  careless 
ness.  "  Is  that  bad  form  in  the  East? 
We  get  as  far  as  the  universities  ourselves 
sometimes.  Some  of  us  can  expand  the 
binomial  theorem  real  fast;  and  we  can 
appreciate  a  Corot  sunset  even  if  we  do 
have  a  superior  article  in  the  real  thing 
out  here." 

"Astonishing!"  Edith  declared  look 
ing  away,  and  keeping  down  a  smile. 
"  It  is  a  good  looking  country  anyhow." 

"  Oh,  the  country  is  a  cracker-jack," 
Homer  assured  her.  "  And  you'll  take  to 
the  natives  sooner  or  later.  They  all  do. 
Have  you  come  out  to  live,  or  just  to  look 
at  us  awhile,  and  then  vanish  from  our 
view?" 

"  I  suppose  he  is  sounding  my  '  pros 
pects.'  I'll  mystify  the  young  gentlemen 
a  bit,"  Edith  thought.  Aloud  she  said: 
"  It  all  depends  on  how  well  you  behave. 
My  plans  are  indefinite.  You  see  if  my 
face  won't  be  my  fortune,  my  hands  will 
have  to  be,  unless  —  but  that's  family 
matter,  and  uninteresting  to  anyone  else. 
Tell  me  about  your  sociological  stratum 
out  here."  Edith's  eyes  were  full  of  a 
dancing  light. 

Followed  then  a  grotesque  picturing  of 
the  impossible  in  the  great  rich  Kansas 
wheat  belt,  all  of  which  Edith  pretended 
seriously  to  believe,  wondering  the  while 
at  the  young  man's  ability  to  hide  the  self- 
conceit  she  had  attributed  to  him. 

The  minutes  ran  unnoticed;  and,  al 
though  they  talked  of  the  wheat  belt  of 
Kansas  and  of  the  West  in  general,  neither 


Cfte  Corner  S>tone         33 

one  referred  again  to  the  days  of  their 
childhood  together. 

The  level  rays  of  the  sun  were  striking 
through  the  trees  when  they  suddenly  re 
membered  themselves. 

"  I'll  walk  home  with  you,  if  you  don't 
care,"  Homer  said,  with  a  hungering  for 
the  interview  to  continue.  And  together 
they  followed  the  winding  path,  half 
shadow,  half  sunshine,  between  the  Wav- 
erly  woodland  and  the  fields  of  wheat. 

Little  Faith  Clover  in  her  leafy  castle 
clapped  her  hands  as  she  looked  after 
them. 

"It's  real,"  she  murmured.  "They 
are  a  real  story." 


IV 


I  am  dreaming  again  of  the  golden  years 
That  have  sped  like  arrows  across  the  sea ; 
And  strange,  sweet  visions  return  to  me  — 

And  memories  sad  —  too  sad  for  tears  — 
A  curious  blending  of  hopes  and  fears, 
Once  painted  by  fancy,  wild  and  free. 

—  A.  W.  MACY. 

^  I AHE  path  from  the  Waverly  grove 
^  to  the  Grannell  home  led  down  the 
shaded  slope  to  the  stepping-stones  at  the 
ford  of  the  creek,  across  a  bit  of  meadow, 
and  through  the  corner  of  the  orchard  to 
the  shady  dooryard.  Along  this  path  the 
two  young  people  loitered  in  the  late  after 
noon,  and  the  way  was  very  pleasant,  as 
the  paths  of  youth  should  be. 

"  I  hope  this  will  not  be  our  last  walk 
together,"  Homer  said  courteously,  as 
they  reached  the  gateway  to  the  shady 
lawn. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Helm,"  Edith  began, 
but  her  companion  broke  in. 

"  Oh,  call  me  Homer.  We  needn't  be 
formal,  need  we?  " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Homer,"  Edith 
amended.  "  My  name,  by  the  way,  is 
Edith.  I'll  be  glad  to  walk  anywhere  till 
I  learn  to  ride." 

"  I  have  a  notion  I  could  train  White 
Rock  better  with  you  to  help  me.  Will 
you  do  it?  "  Homer  asked.  '  The  inspira 
tion  just  came  to  me." 

[34] 


Cfte  Corner  §>tone         35 

"  Delighted,"  Edith  ejaculated,  "  if  you 
have  the  time  to  waste  on  me." 

"  I'll  take  the  time,  and  it  won't  be 
wasted  either.  It  will  be  a  real  missionary 
work  I'm  sure.  My  main  occupation  on 
earth  is  to  serve  my  community,  anyhow," 
Homer  replied. 

"  Oh,  I'll  have  Uncle  Samson  pay  you 
so  much  per  teach,"  Edith  declared. 

"Good!  I'll  demand  full  wage,  too. 
But,  seriously,  when  shall  we  begin?  " 

"  Whenever  you  are  ready  to  begin 
seriously,"  Edith  replied,  a  challenge  to 
mischief  in  the  laughing  gray  eyes. 

"  It's  a  bargain,  then,  but  I  warn  you 
it's  a  good  season's  work,  although  well- 
bred  horses  learn  fast,"  Homer  assured 
her. 

"  So  do  well-bred  people.  Good-bye, 
and  many  thanks." 

The  laughing  gray  eyes  held  a  place  be 
fore  Homer  Helm's  mind  as  he  galloped 
away  toward  the  big  red  barns  that  made 
a  playlike  castle,  or  a  playlike  Pawnee 
Rock  for  Faith  Clover. 

"  She's  a  girl  a  fellow  can  be  sure  of," 
he  thought,  as  his  mind  ran  over  the  whole 
afternoon  again  and  again.  "  I  wonder 
what  she  thinks  of  me." 

What  Edith  thought  she  said  to  her 
uncle  at  tea  time. 

"  I  met  your  neighbor,  Mr.  Helm,  to 
day.  I  think  I  can  understand  why  he  has 
a  reputation  for  popularity  and  also  why 
you  say  he  is  something  of  a  flirt.  He  can 
carry  off  the  part  without  pretending  to 
do  it.  He  must  be  all  the  less  worthy 
down  underneath  the  pretense.  He  is 


36         C6e  Cornet  §>tone 

going  to  teach  me  to  ride  this  summer,  but 
I  promise  now,  Uncle  Samson,  I'll  not  let 
my  scalp  be  added  to  his  collection  of 
trophies."  Edith  spoke  lightly,  too  busy 
with,  thoughts  of  the  afternoon  to  notice 
her  uncle's  long  silence. 

If  Samson  Grannell  had  broken  that 
silence  he  would  have  said: 

;'  What  you  think  and  what  Homer 
Helm  thinks  is  nothing  to  me.  I  have  one 
plan  for  these  two  ranches,  one  dream  to 
be  fulfilled,  and  you  two  must  bring  it 
about.  I  shall  play  my  game  carefully, 
and  I  never  lose-" 

Late  that  evening  Homer  Helm  sat  in 
his  little  runabout  car  before  the  door  of 
the  village  postoffice,  waiting  for  Captain 
Klews  to  bring  his  mail.  A  trip  to  the 
postoffice  every  evening  was  a  part  of  the 
routine  of  the  Helm  household,  although 
the  rural  mail  route  included  the  Helm 
ranch  in  its  course  every  forenoon.  Mar 
ket  quotations  on  stock  and  grain  were  too 
important  to  the  young  manager  to  be  de 
layed  by  slow  delivery  of  morning  papers. 
."  Let  your  clerk  run  the  office  and  111 
give  you  a  turn  around  town,"  he  called  to 
the  postmaster. 

"  Coming  in  a  minute.  Don't  take  the 
trouble  to  get  out,"  the  old  Captain  called 
cheerily  from  behind  the  glass  box-sections 
of  the  postoffice. 

"  It  would  break  the  old  gossip's  heart 
not  to  get  out  here  and  sit  in  the  car  awhile 
and  tell  me  the  latest  stories  going.  Who 
says  women  have  a  monopoly  on  busy 
body  business,  anyhow  ?  "  Homer  mused  as 
he  lounged  back  in  his  seat. 


Cfie  Corner  Stone         37 

"Here's  your  mail  —  Kansas  City  an' 
Topeky  papers,  an'  your  farm  journals." 

Captain  Klews  gave  Homer  the  mail 
and  sat  down  on  the  comfortable  cushions 
with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"  We  didn't  have  none  of  these  here 
easy  seatin's  when  I  was  a  young  man  and 
your  pa  was  helpin'  to  take  the  three-quar 
ters  that  was  left  of  me  off  in  the  battle 
field,  an'  me  a-bleedin'  to  death  slow.  An' 
your  pa  never  left  me  —  " 

Evidently  this  was  a  well-known  story, 
for  Homer,  smiling  kindly,  interrupted: 

"  That's  all  right.  You've  about  stopped 
bleeding  now.  Tell  me  the  news." 

Captain  Klew's  eyes  twinkled,  for  he 
was  a  born  gossip. 

"  Say,  d'you  hear  about  your  new  neigh 
bor  up  there,  Sam  Grannell's  niece?  " 

"No.  What's  to  hear?  "  Homer  was 
looking  at  his  speedometer  as  if  it  were  a 
Chinese  puzzle. 

"  Why,  they're  tellin'  she's  come  out 
here  to  marry  some  rich  feller.  Seems 
strange  they'd  say  that  about  her  knowin' 
how  little  store  Sam  sets  by  riches.  You 
know  he  sent  for  her  to  come.  He's  al 
ways  paid  her  bills,  but  never  invited  her 
out  here  till  now.  He  couldn't  be  aggin' 
her  on  in  this,  d'you  reckon?  " 

Klewrs  laughed  boisterously  and  winked 
knowingly  at  Homer  who  was  still  en 
grossed  with  the  speedometer. 

"  An'  you  hadn't  heard?  Course  you'd 
be  the  last  one  to  hear  it."  This  with  a 
sly  dig  in  the  young  man's  side.  "  Maybe 
she's  playin'  into  Grannell's  hand,  an' 
maybe  it's  gossip.  She  ain't  got  an  Eastern 


38          Cbe  Corner 


chap,  one  of  them  snobs,  on  the  string,  too, 
I  should  hope.  I  don't  pay  much  atten 
tion  to  anything  I  hear  though.  How's 
your  ma?  " 

"  No,  you  don't  pay  much  attention, 
that's  a  fact,"  Homer  answered  drily. 
"  Mother  is  very  well,  except  a  little  short 
ness  of  breath,  now  and  then,  when  she's 
excited." 

"  She'd  better  not  get  excited.  Them 
pink  cheeks  of  hers  ain't  real  natural  in  a 
middle-aged  woman." 

*  They  surely  aren't  artificial,"  Homer 
said  with  a  smile. 

"  She's  a  mighty  good-lookin'  woman 
anyhow.  Well,  here  we  are.  How  quick 
you  can  git  round  town  and  back  in  one  of 
these  fire  wagons.  You  don't  have  to  go 
right  out  home,  do  you?  " 

"  I  forgot  about  this  being  the  dark  of 
the  moon,  and  my  lights  are  bad.  I  must 
be  going." 

As  he  leaned  across  to  open  the  door 
for  the  crippled  man,  Klews  said  in  a  low 
voice  : 

"  Homer,  don't  let  no  girl  do  you, 
specially  one  of  Sam  Grannell's  backin'. 
Don't  do  it.  I've  knowed  you  so  long  I'd 
hate  to  see  that." 

There  was  so  much  of  genuine  affection 
in  the  old  man's  voice  that  Homer  patted 
the  armless  shoulder  as  he  helped  the  post 
master  from  the  car. 

There  was  no  moon,  no  star,  no  light 
for  Homer  Helm  on  that  homeward  ride. 

"  I'm  in  for  a  horse-training  stunt  any 
how,"  he  muttered  as  he  sent  his  runabout 
on  at  a  furious  rate.  "  What  difference 


Cfte  Corner  §>tone         39 

does  it  make  if  she  does  want  a  rich  hus 
band,  or  whether  one  or  a  dozen  *  Eastern 
snobs,'  as  old  Cap.  Klews  calls  them,  has 
the  inside  track.  She's  not  like  any  other 
girl  I  ever  knew.  If  she  wants  to  play  a 
mere  season's  game  out  in  the  wheat  belt, 
I'm  her  man.  And  we'll  run  one  jolly  race 
for  one  jolly  summer  anyhow.  The  fall 
can  take  care  of  itself.  If  it's  money  she's 
after,  I  haven't  it,  that's  all.  I'm  Isabel 
Helm's  hired  boy  and  she  won't  care  for 
me.  And  I  couldn't  care  for  her.  So  the 
horseback  riders  will  ride  on  and  on,  and 
the  gossips  may  go  to  —  the  fellow  who 
will  get  'em  all  without  my  sending. 

"  I  used  to  look  up  to  her  when  I  was 
a  little  lonely  boy  long  ago.  Somehow, 
I've  kept  thinking  I'd  always  look  up  to 
her  if  we  ever  met  again.  And  now  I 
know  I've  always  been  wanting  to  meet 
her  again.  The  thing  has  sort  of  grown 
up  with  me  as  I  grew.  Just  a  boy's  boyish 
dream,  that's  all.  And  she  is  a  real  live 
worth-while  girl  —  damn  a  gossip  !  "  He 
growled  vehemently,  as  he  leaned  down 
and  pressed  the  electric  button  below  the 
seat. 

"  I  may  as  well  turn  on  the  lights  now. 
Lord  forgive  me  for  telling  Klews  that 
lie  about  them;  I  had  to  get  away  quick 
right  then.  The  loving-hearted  old  scamp 
would  pretty  nearly  die  for  me  because 
he  was  my  father's  army  comrade  —  but 
he  couldn't  know  —  " 

The  sentence  went  unfinished  in  the 
young  man's  mind.  The  night  shadows 
hid  the  young  face. 


ttrpie 


aze 


Who  shall  say  in  the  heart  of  a  child, 
Fanciful,   joyous,   light  and  free, 
Full  of  vagueness  and  mystery, 
Pure,  and  simple,  and  undefiled, 
Never  there  comes,  in  fancies  wild, 
Glimpses  of  what  is  yet  to  be  ? 

—  A.  W.  MACY. 

O  find  how  Providence  can  u  scatter 
plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land  "  one  must 
see  the  great  Kansas  wheat  belt  on  a  ban 
ner  crop  year.  Samson  Grannell's  ranch 
had  never  before  known  such  an  enormous 
yield,  and  the  Grannell  bank  account  was 
increasing  in  proportion  to  the  harvest  re 
turns.  Already  the  owner  of  the  ranch 
and  bank  account  was  planning  yet  larger 
profits  for  the  coming  season.  To  such 
men  as  Grannell  money  has  only  one  use 
—  to  beget  money. 

On  a  summer  afternoon  in  August,  the 
Grannell  automobile  stopped  beside  the 
Waverly  grove.  The  owner  and  a  shrewd- 
faced  man  sat  in  the  comfortable  shade 
looking  out  at  the  creek  and  woodsy  val 
ley  and  the  few  acres  of  open  meadow 
beyond. 

"  You  get  the  lay  of  it?  Any  civil  en 
gineer  can  do  that,"  Grannell  was  saying. 
'  The  old  man's  bound  to  go  under  any 
how.  This  thing's  not  going  to  hang  fire 
forever,  and  we  may  as  well  be  ready  to 
begin  on  it  and  not  lose  any  time  when  the 

[43] 


44         Cfte  Cornet 


end  comes.  Now  figure  this  road  in,  the 
new  shorter  road  off,  the  cost  of  straight 
ening  the  creek  and  grading  down  that 
rough  part.  Then  there's  a  little  expense 
in  clearing  off  this  growth." 

Grannel  took  off  his  hat  to  let  the  little 
streak  of  cool  air  coming  up  the  valley  fan 
his  brow,  the  man  beside  him  making  rapid 
notes  as  he  talked. 

"  Say,  Sam,"  the  pencil  rested  and  the 

keen      eyes      studied      Grannell's      face. 

'  What's    your    grudge    against    the    old 

man?     Why   not   let   him  hang  on   here 

awhile?" 

"  Look  at  the  profit  in  wheat  lost  every 
year,"  Grannell  returned. 

"  Do  you  get  it  all?"  queried  his 
companion. 

"  I'll  control  it  mainly.  Helm  and  I 
will  square  our  places.  All  that  triangle 
down  there  will  be  added  on  to  my  ground, 
eventually.  All  that  prevents  it  being 
there  right  now  is  a  woman  hanging  on  to 
an  over-due  mortgage  instead  of  foreclos 
ing.  But  she  can't  say  a  word  after  her 
son  marries.  He.'ll  be  sole  proprietor 
then.  Think  of  two  such  fine  ranches  with 
a  corner  chewed  off  like  this  between  'em. 
We've  each  got  five  sections,  the  best 
wheat  land  west  of  Hutchinson.  This 
measly  sixty-six  and  seven-eighths  acres 
goes  zigzagging  through  here  a  few  rods 
wide  on  either  side  of  the  creek,  marked 
and  fenced  in  to  the  inch  by  an  old  back- 
number  plainsman.  Their  day  has  gone 
by.  We  are  living  in  a  practical  age,  not 
an  age  of  imagination.  We  deal  in  straight 
lines,  not  curves,  and  you  don't  find  much 


Cfte  Corner  @>tone         45 

mushy  sentimentalism  now-a-days.  The 
corner  stone  of  things  in  this  world  is  cold 
cash." 

"  It's  a  comfortable  place  on  such  a 
darned  hot  day  as  this,  anyhow,"  the  other 
man  asserted.  "  Kind  of  restful  to  see  a 
tree  like  these  once  in  awhile  by  the  road 
side,  and  the  natural  curves  of  this  slope 
couldn't  be  beat  by  a  landscape-maker. 
Honest,  Sam,  isn't  it  all  just  dollars  you 
want?  " 

Grannell  set  his  jaws  sternly. 

"  I've  set  my  heart  on  it  so  long  I'm 
never  going  to  give  up  now  till  it's  done. 
And  I'm  not  the  only  common-sense  busi 
ness  man  around  here.  Helm  knows  all 
this  as  well  as  I  do.  He's  a  young  man 
of  judgment,  and  he'll  show  it  too  when 
he  is  head  of  that  ranch  one  of  these  days. 
As  to  money,  isn't  it  what  we  all  want  and 
need?  It's  the  only  thing  that  talks  to  me. 
That's  the  kind  of  a  man  I  am." 

'  Well,  by  jinks,  you  weren't  always 
that  kind  of  a  man.  I  knew  you  back  when 
your  wife  was  living  and  you  were  poor. 
Prosperity's  been  hard  on  you,  Sam  Gran 
nell,  I  pity  you." 

Grannell  made  no  response  as  he 
stepped  from  the  car  to  get  a  better  view 
of  the  place  he  was  condemning. 

"  Hold  on  there.  You  are  spoiling 
some  kid's  playhouse,"  the  engineer  cried, 
as  Grannell  broke  down  the  bushes  and 
kicked  aside  the  vines  hiding  the  view 
across  the  upper  line  of  "  The  Shadows." 

Grannell  hardly  noted  the  havoc  he  had 
wrought  in  Faith  Clover's  castle,  nor  did 
he  see  the  tragic  face  and  tear-wet  eyes  of 


46         Cfte  Corner 


the  little  girl  who  had  slipped  away  just 
at  that  minute  and  stood  trembling  beyond 
the  fairy  bush.  What  could  a  practical 
man  of  money  and  might  know  of  castles 
and  fairy  bushes  and  the  heart-break  their 
loss  would  mean  to  a  loving  little  dreamer 
of  dreams,  a  part  of  whose  very  life  they 
were?  He  dealt  in  realities,  and  wheat 
land  is  a  very  real  thing. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  to  the  shy  child, 
that  these  two  men  talked  of  levels  and 
timber  and  wheat  values  which  she  could 
not  understand  and  of  the  bad  fortune 
overhanging  her  beloved  "  Dando  "  which 
she  grasped  clearly.  It  was  a  day  of  trag 
edy  as  real  to  her  as  the  great  tragedies 
that  blight  the  careers  of  grown-up  chil 
dren  in  their  larger  world. 

"  Oh,  Dando  can  fix  it  all  right,  Faith," 
Noel  Waverly  declared  that  evening,  as 
he  caressed  the  tumbled  golden  curls  and 
sought  to  cool  the  tear-stained  face  per 
spiring  against  his  shoulder  in  an  effort  to 
hide  its  grief.  "  Don't  cry,  little  sweet 
heart.  You  can  make  a  story  out  of  all 
this  trouble,  with  a  wicked  ogre  or  a  Paw 
nee  Indian.  I  know  you  can." 

Faith  looked  up  brightly.  God's  love 
is  nowhere  sweeter  than  in  the  quick 
mending  of  little  broken  hearts. 

"  I  can  tell  you  such  a  big,  big  story, 
Dando,  and  it's  not  dream  stuff,  it's  all 
real,  most  of  it  is  anyhow,"  she  amended 
conscientiously. 

"  It's  about  a  prince  and  princess," 
Faith  explained.  "  He  came  riding  up  to 
ward  my  castle  on  a  big  black  horse,  last 


Cfce  Cornet  Stone         47 

violet  time,  'tending  like  he  was  fixing  the 
fence  where  White  Face  pushed  it  to  bite 
the  wheat,  and  just  then  she  came  right 
out  of  a  violet,  I  mean  " —  Faith  was  try 
ing  hard  to  be  practical  —  "  she  came  up 
from  the  Missouri  river,  the  creek,  you 
know,  Dando,  with  flowers,  and  they  were 
both  so  s'prised.  I  played  they  liked  each 
other  right  away,  but  they  didn't  know  it. 
I'm  most  afraid  they  don't  know  it  yet," 
Faith  added  doubtfully. 

"  Is  that  all?  "  Noel  Waverly  asked. 

"  Oh,  there's  more.  And  I  know,  cross 
my  heart,  it's  all  truly,  and  not  dream  stuff. 
They  come  'most  every  day  close  to  my 
castle.  I  try  not  to  miss  them.  They  may 
need  me  any  minute  to  tell  them  they  love 
each  other.  That's  my  part  of  its  play. 
Don't  laugh,  Dando.  It's  all  just  my  story 
I  make  -up  about  them." 

Faith  put  up  her  hand  to  cover  the  old 
man's  mouth. 

"  She's  got  a  horse  named  White  Rock. 
And  his,  the  prince's,  you  know,  is  Black- 
stone.  Her  runcle  asked  him  to  go  riding 
with  her.  I  made  that  up  myself.  I 
guess  her  runcle  wants  her  to  marry  the 
prince.  I  made  that  up,  too.  She's  poor, 
you  know,  and  if  they  do  marry,  why  all 
the  big  ranches  will  be  just  one  big  ranch, 
'cept  this  little  wiggle  of  grove  and  pasture 
along  the  creek.  That's  what  the  prince 
calls  it.  I  didn't  make  that  up." 

Old  Noel  gave  a  start. 

"  That's  that  scoundrel's  scheme.  I 
knew  he  was  up  to  some  cussedness,"  he 
cried. 

"  Oh,  I  just  made  that  fit  in  there  about 


48         Cfte  Corner  Stone 

the  runcle,  you  know,  cause  he  said  today 
that  when  the  creek  is  straight  and  the 
land  is  level  and  the  trees  all  gone,  the  two 
ranches  would  be  square  and  he'd  control 
it.  How  could  he  control  it,  Dando,  less'n 
she  marries  the  prince?  He's  his  mam 
ma's  boy,  and  don't  have  to  mind  her 
runcle." 

Poor  old  Waverly  sat  very  still  while 
Faith  harked  back  to  happier  things. 

u  He's  such  a  beautiful  prince.  I  play 
like  all  the  ladies  love  him.  But  I  play 
like  he  loves  to  be  with  the  princess  best. 
He  comes  up  to  the  edge  of  the  wheat  field 
when  she  is  under  the  trees.  And  I  visit 
with  them,  and  they  never  know.  I  play 
like  she  is  poor  like  Cinderella  and  her 
runcle  says  money  talks.  It's  going  to  end 
all  right  though,  and  be  happy  ever  after, 
just  like  the  story-book  stories.  But  it's 
so  real,  Dando,  so  real." 

Faith  paused  a  minute,  then  she  added: 

u  They  are  going  to  Pawnee  Rock  pretty 
soon.  And  you  said  yourself,  Dando, 
folks  who  love  on  Pawnee  Rock  love  al 
ways  and  always.  I  can't  hardly  wait 
for  them  to  come  back.  But,  oh,  Dando, 
my  castle's  all  broke  down.  How  can  I 
visit  with  them  any  more,  and  how  will 
they  know  they  shall  love  each  other  if 
they  don't  find  out  on  Pawnee  Rock? 
Maybe,"  she  added  with  the  philosophy 
of  childhood,  "  maybe  though,  there'll  be 
a  way  just  made  for  the  story  to  end.  And 
maybe  the  runcle  won't  take  away  the  trees 
my  grandmamma  loved,  and  make  it  all  a 
wheat  field.  And  everything  will  be  happy 
ever  after.  I'd  rather  have  pretty  cas- 


Cfte  Corner  @tone         49 

ties  and  trees  and  my  Santa  Fe  trail,  and 
Pawnee  Rock  and  grandmammas,  and 
love.  They  are  all  better  than  just  wheat, 
Dando?" 

"  All  better,  Faith,"  Noel  Waverly  said 
softly.  "  And  some  day  everybody  will 
be  happy  ever  after." 


VI 


On  Pawnee  Rock  in  the  sunshine,  where  the  Winds  of 

Promise  blow, 
A  cloud,  free  and  fine  as  a  fancy,  veils  the  blue  with 

a  milder  glow. 
O'er  the  prairie  grass  its  shadow,  like  a  gypsy  dancer, 

sways, 
Keeping   time   to   the   mystic   music   that   the    pulse   of 

Nature  plays; 

The  purple  and  cream  and  amber  of  a  hundred  thou 
sand  flowers 
Tint  the  land  like  an  Aztec  mantle,  all  the  silent  and 

shining  hours. 
If  there  is  in  the  world  a  nepenthe  for  the  heartache 

the  most  of  us  know, 
On  Pawnee  Rock  you  may  find  it,  where  the  Winds 

of  Promise  blow. 

TT  is  the  way  of  some  men  that  the 
A  farther  they  get  from  boyhood,  the 
stronger  is  the  hold  of  youthful  ideals 
upon  their  minds,  that  with  a  strange  re 
serve  and  dignity  they  hide  all  the  deeper 
from  the  sight  of  men.  As  Homer  Helm, 
a  shy  little  undersized  country  boy,  grew 
up  to  the  stature  of  a  stalwart  man,  cer 
tain  boy  ideals  had  clung  to  him  and 
strengthened  with  his  strength.  Samson 
Grannell  had  said,  "  Young  Helm  gen 
erally  keeps  you  guessing,"  but  none  of 
his  neighbors  understood  how  timidity 
had  grown  into  reserve  and  dignity,  off 
set,  in  this  case,  by  a  naturally  winning 
personality. 

Now  in  his  fourth  summer  at  home  his 
fine  new  automobile  was  jacked  up  off  the 
[50] 


Cfte  Corner  ^tone         51 

cement  floor  of  the  new  garage,-  while  its 
owner-  devoted  himself  to  wheat  harvest 
ing;  or,  as  reports  ran,  too  often  went 
horseback  riding  with  Samson  Grannell's 
niece.  It  kept  Jim  Gledden  and  Captain 
Klews  both  busy  to  keep  up  with  the  gossip 
of  the  day  and  make  due  report  at  train 
time. 

A  penniless  girl,  supported  by  her  uncle 
must  have  a  purpose  in  this  visit.  As  to 
her  ever  inheriting  her  uncle's- property  — 
that  was  a  problem.  Sam  Grannell  wasn't 
the  kind  of  man  to  ever  leave  anything. 
If  he  set  his  jaw,  he'd  lug  his  whole  ranch 
right  through  the  pearly  gates  in  the  face 
of  old  St.  Peter  and  all  the  other  saints. 
If  ever  Klews  longed  for  the  lost  arm  left 
on  the  battle  field,  he  longed  for  it  now 
that  he  might  shake  two  fists  every  time 
he  heard  the  name  of  Grannell. 

As  to  Edith  Grannell,  she  ought  to 
know  that  Homer  was  just  flirting  because 
she  was  the  new  girl  in  the  neighborhood. 
He'd  marry  rich.  It  was  in  the  Helm 
blood  to  add  to  prosperity.  This  was  the 
community  grievance,  nursetl  and  devel 
oped  by  Jim  Gledden,  who  stood  up  as 
valiantly  for  Edith  as  his  old  associate 
fought  for  Homer  Helm. 

It  happened  that  from  the  first  day's 
meeting  under  the  trees  in  the  Waverly 
woodland,  Homer  and  Edith,  each  safe 
guarded  in  mind  against  the  other,  felt 
secure  in  a  summer-time  association.  It 
could  mean  nothing  more  serious  at  most 
than  the  discovery  that  neither  one  had 
been  deceived  by  the  other.  There  was  a 
spice  more  of  zest  in  the  game  each  was 


52         Cbe  Corner 


playing,  an  old,  old  game  anywhere,  be 
cause  of  this  security;  and  the  playing  was 
a  little  more  reckless  because  deep  down 
there  was  a  conscious  disapproval  of  it  in 
each  mind. 

The  one  strange  feature  of  this  good 
fellowship  was  that  neither  one  spoke  of 
their  childhood  days  together.  Outside  of 
this  they  were  becoming  royal  chums,  tak 
ing  no  further  responsibility  than  the  ac 
ceptance  of  the  offerings  the  careless  sum 
mer  days  brought  to  them. 

It  was  only  to  Faith  Clover,  the  lonely 
little  dreamer  watching  their  coming  and 
going,  that  they  became  "  playlike  " 
lovers. 

On  the  day  of  the  fall  of  Faith's  castle, 
Edith  had  come  by  the  short  path  through 
the  Grannell  fields  up  to  where  the  grove, 
sweet  with  refreshing  morning  air,  invited 
to  an  invigorating  hour.  On  the  evening 
before  she  had  lost  her  monogram  pin  as 
she  had  visited  awhile  with  little  Faith, 
who  was  playing  about  under  the  trees. 
She  might  find  it,  for  the  grass  now  lay  flat 
and  slick  on  the  hard  ground. 

And  here  she  had  found  Homer  Helm 
who  had  come  up  early,  by  chance  of 
course,  to  figure  on  the  value  of  forage 
as  a  late  crop  on  the  stubble  next  to  the 
woodland. 

'  This  is  the  best  part  of  the  day  for 
me,"  Edith  declared,  as  they  loitered  about 
the  edge  of  the  stubble  field.  "  Another 
hour  and  the  sky  will  be  brass  and  the 
fields  a  furnace." 

"  Hard  on  freckles  but  good  for  the 
corn  —  in  the  corn  belt,  I  mean.  It  is  a 


Cfte  Cornet  §>tone         53 

seared  land  out  there,  though;  a  blazin', 
blisterin',  blightin',  bloomin'  hot  country 
in  August.  It's  my  native  habitat,  but  I 
wonder  that  you  stay  here,"  Homer  de 
clared. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  face  to  show 
what  else  he  was  wondering,  as  he  looked 
at  her  so  refreshingly  clean  and  comfort 
able  in  her  white  morning  dress. 

The  shadows  deepened  momentarily  in 
the  gray  eyes. 

44  My  uncle  hasn't  said  I've  staid  too 
long  yet,  but,  of  course,  I  am  not  going 
to  sit  here  with  folded  hands  always.  All 
summers  come  to  an  end,  you  know." 

It  would  be  easy  to  drift  on  if  summers 
were  endless,  but  that  firm  mouth  and 
chin  could  never  belong  to  a  girl  with  a 
purposeless  life. 

44  Working  for  one's  living  isn't  a  bad 
proposition.  Help  is  always  scarce  out 
here.  You  can  easily  find  a  job,"  Homer 
said  lightly,  u  but  this  going  away  is  quite 
another  story,  even  if  it  is  a  beastly  hot 
country.  Good-byes  are  even  worse  than 
dumb  endurance,  and  traveling  less  com 
fortable  than  staying  in  the  shade." 

Did  they  remember  the  day  on  which 
they  had  separated  once  before?  Neither 
looked  up  at  that  moment,  and  Faith 
Clover  (in  her  castle  also,  because  it  was 
the  cool  of  the  morning)  wondered  why 
they  should  stop  talking  for  so  long  a 
time. 

44  Oh,  I  can  stand  the  heat  all  right. 
I'm  up  by  daylight  every  morning  not  to 
miss  this  delicious  hour,"  Edith  said  at 
length. 


54         Cfte  Corner 


"  Edith,  would  you  like  to  see  the  sun 
rise  from  Pawnee  Rock  some  morning? 
The  New  Jerusalem  hasn't  anything  over 
it  for  coloring.  Gates  of  pearl,  and  foun 
dations  garnished  with  all  manner  of 
precious  stones  and  seas  of  glass  min 
gled  with  fire.  And  Chat's  no  blasphemy 
either." 

UI  wish  I  might.  Is  it  far  away? 
Uncle  Samson  and  I  passed  near  it  on  the 
day  I  came  back  to  Kansas.  We  were  all 
the  morning  getting  home."  Clear  in 
memory  was  the  picture  of  it  as  it  had  ap 
peared  crowned  with  the  heroic  figure  on 
the  morning  of  her  coming  hither. 

"  It  is  not  very  far  if  we  go  in  the  auto, 
but  it's  a  glorious  horseback  ride  if  you 
don't  mind  getting  up  pretty  early  for 
beauty  sleepers.  Maybe  you'd  rather  go 
in  the  car,  though." 

"  And  maybe  I  wouldn't.  Some  folks 
don't  need  beauty  sleep,  and  some  are  no 
better  looking  with  it  anyhow,"  Edith  de 
clared. 

'  Well,  let's  go  tomorrow.  My  goose- 
bone  tells  me  this  hot  south  wind  is  minded 
to  shift  to  the  north  by  tomorrow  morn 
ing.  Sometimes  a  streak  of  real  Colorado 
weather  slips  across  the  prairies  for  a  brief 
visit  in  August.  Will  you  be  ready  to 
start  early?  " 

"  The  answer  is  '  I  will,'  "  Edith  re 
plied. 

"  Then  the  black  charger  and  the  white 
palfrey  will  be  pawing  at  your  portcullis 
in  the  gray  light  of  the  morning,"  Homer 
responded. 

"  All  right.     I  must  go  now.     I  came 


Cfte  Cornet  ^tone         55 

up  to  find  a  little  monogram  pin  that  I 
think  I  lost  here,"  Edith  said,  searching 
the  ground  about  her  feet. 

"  What  was  it  like?  "  Homer's  finger 
was  on  the  pin  in  his  pocket,  as  he  asked, 
the  question.  He  had  found  it  and.  recog 
nized  it  as  belonging  to  her  before  she 
came  up.  He  hesitated  now  merely  to 
tease  her. 

"  Oh,  it  was  just  a  little  gold  pin  of  a 
club  of  girls  I  once  belonged  to.  We 
called  ourselves  the  *  Hope  Ever  '  Club, 
and  the  club  pin  was  like  this.."  Edith 
drew  the  outline  in  the  dust  with  a  stick  — 


Homer  studied  the  figure.  "  '  H.  E.' 
joined  together,"  he  said.  "  N-no,  I  don't 
see  it  anywhere.  I'll  help  you  find  it  some 
time,  I  hope  ever,"  he  added. 

"  It's  no  great  loss,"  Edith  insisted  as 
she  started  toward  home. 

"  But  it  might  be  to  somebody,"  Homer 
called  after  her,  as  he  mounted  Black- 
stone.  '  Remember  tomorrow  morning 
at  the  time  St.  Peter  took  for  lying  about 
his  friends,  then  we'll  be  off." 

The  least-known  hour  of  the  twenty-four 
is  the  hour  of  dawn.  Yet  no  other  hour  is 
fraught  with  more  beauty,  or  refreshing 
sweetness  than  the  dawn  of  an  August 
morning  on  the  prairies.  Whatever  the 
burden  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  however 
stifling  the  close  night  shadows,  this  one 
hour  comes  in  blessing.  The  birds  twit 
tering  sleepily  from  the  leafy  coverts  of 


56         Cfte  Cornet 


noonday,  forget  not  at  early  mass  to  praise 
God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow.  And 
every  growing  thing  —  grassblade  and 
flower  and  shrub  and  tree  —  feels  the 
pulse  of  new  strength  for  the  new  day. 

It  was  yet  too  dark  to  see  the  road  when 
Homer  and  Edith  started  out  the  next 
morning,  and  all  the  miracle  of  a  new- 
made  day,  a  miracle  as  old  as  the  Tuesday 
morning  of  creation  week,  unrolled  before 
them.  Black,  shapeless  shadows  in  the 
landscape  took  form,  turned  gray,  then 
came  to  their  rightful  selves  and  purposes. 
The  wayside  flowers  seemed  to  burst  into 
bloom.  And  everywhere,  from  grove  and 
meadow  and  brown  stubble  came  a  wave 
of  music,  soft  and  clear,  the  morning  chant 
of  the  birds  rippling  on,  mile  after  mile, 
rising  at  last  in  one  grand  chorus  of  hal 
lelujahs. 

Homer  and  Edith  rode  slowly  at  first 
after  the  manner  of  good  horsemen.  But 
long  before  the  gray  shadows  had  lifted, 
the  two  horses  were'  swinging  in  the  easy 
pace  of  the  thoroughbred  down  the  long 
straight  road,  their  hoofbeats  smothered 
in  the  soft  black  dust,  until,  at  length,  they 
mounted  the  long  slope  that  leads  to  the 
brow  of  Pawnee  Rock. 

The  fresh  morning  breeze  was  surging 
over  all  the  land.  The  west  was  a  blur, 
cool  green  and  blue,  against  a  void  of  dis 
tance.  Below  them  the  stubble  fields,  gold 
en-brown  in  the  dawning  light,  rolled  away 
and  away  like  a  vast  velvet  carpet  spread 
to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth.  A  filmy  cur 
tain  hung  above  the  Arkansas  river,  hiding 
its  level  sands  and  low-growing  shrubbery. 


Cfie  Corner  @>tone         57 

Above  a  horizon  of  blending  purple  and 
scarlet,  all  the  east  was' one  roseate  glory 
shimmering  through  silvery  mist  and  melt 
ing  at  last  far  up  the  sky  into  an  exquisite 
tracery  of  mother-of-pearl,  until  the  new 
born  August  day  was  christened  in  a  sun 
burst  of  splendor,  and  the  young  man  and 
woman  standing  together  watched  the 
world  bid  good  morning  to  the  light. 

"  Oh,  this  is  superb,"  Edith  cried  as 
they  stood  on  the  crest  of  the  great  vol 
canic  outcrop,  and  looked  over  the  land 
awaiting  the  chrism  of  a  new  day. 

"  Yes,  it's  worth  the  effort,"  Homer's 
voice  was  rich  and  deep  as  he  added, 
"  '  and  I  saw  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth,  for  the  first  heaven  and  the  first 
earth  were  passed  away,  and  there  was  no 


more  sea.' 


Was  it  because  of  the  early  morning 
hour,  or  because  of  the  beauty  of  the 
Kansas  prairie  below  them,  or  because  of 
the  uplift  of  soul  that  comes  to  him  who 
stands  on  high  places,  or  because  they  were 
alone  together  that  the  dross  slipped  away, 
and  the  fine  gold  of  life  remained?  A 
long  while  they  stood  silently  side  by  side, 
a  feeling  of  nearness,  of  a  new  under 
standing  of  each  other  holding  them  both. 

As  they  turned  to  view  the  long  low 
swell  of  land  to  the  northward,  a  cool  wind 
came  sweeping  over  its  crest,  bringing  the 
vigor  of  refreshing  in  its  caress. 

;'  I  was  waiting  for  this  north  breeze. 
I  knew  it  was  coming,"  Homer  declared. 
"  It  will  be  fine  for  the  home  run  —  if  we 
ever  have  to  make  it.  Let's  live  awhile  by 
ourselves  up  here." 


58         Cfte  Cornet  Stone 

'  Tell  me  about  this  rock,  while  we  are 
resting,"  Edith  said  as  they  sat  down  fac 
ing  the  great  silent  land  to  the  south. 

"  It  used  to  be  ever  so  much  higher. 
It's  been  chipped  and  chopped  off  for  com 
mercial  purposes.  You  know  the  grip  of 
commercial  purposes."  Homer  checked  his 
tongue,  as  he  remembered  Samson  Gran- 
nell.  "  It  was  a  landmark  on  the  old  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  a  citadel  of  the  Plains  in  Noel 
Waverly's  day,  a  monument  to  more  trag 
edies  than  any  other  one  spot  in  North 
America.  This  was  the  corner  stone  on 
which  the  civilization  of  the  West  was 
builded,  a  thing  to  rest  on  and  to  fight 
from. 

"  There  were  more  Indian  fights  right 
here  —  it  got  its  name  from  an  awful 
Pawnee  battle;  more  rescuers  and  refugees 
have  stood  on  this  cliff,  the  pursuers,  and 
the  pursued;  more  nameless  graves  and 
unburied  dead  in  the  soil  below  us.  Some 
times  it  was  the  white  man,  and  some 
times  the  red  man,  who  held  the  fortress. 
The  Indians  could  see  from  the  top  here 
to  old  Fort  Zarah  on  the  east  and  Fort 
Larned  on  the  west.  They  could  count  the 
size  of  the  wagon  trains  starting  out  from 
either  place,  and  when  they  got  to  the 
foot  of  this  bluff  somebody  perished,  for 
this  was  the  place  of  sepulchre." 

Edith  shivered  as  she  tried  to  picture 
it  all. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  afraid.  The  danger 
passed  with  the  passing  of  old  Noel 
Waverly's  breed.  It  isn't  peril  so  much 
as  prosperity  that  threatens  some  of  us. 
By  the  way,  what  was  it  you  said  yesterday 


Cfte  Corner  Stone         59 

about  going  away?  Aren't  you  having  a 
good  time  here?"  As  he  spoke  Homer 
was  cutting  some  lines  on  the  rock  beside 
him,  at  the  risk  of  ruining  his  pocket-knife. 

"  I  said  nothing  very  definite,  and  I  am 
having  a  good  time,"  Edith  replied.  "  All 
this  is  a  matter  yet  to  be  settled  between 
Uncle  Samson  and  myself.  You  said  this 
rock  was  the  corner  stone  of  civilization 
in  the  West  —  a  thing  to  rest  on  and  to 
fight  from.  Uncle  Samson  and  I  do  not 
always  agree  on  what  is  the  real  corner 
stone  of  life  —  to  rest  on  and  fight  from. 
But  that's  future  history.  Let's  go  back  to 
tradition.  I  saw  you  on  the  top  of  this 
rock  on  the  morning  I  came  to  Kansas." 

"  You  did?  "  Homer  ejaculated  in  sur 
prise.  Then  he  added,  with  pretended 
sincerity,  "  Yes,  I  was  out  looking  for  you. 
What  did  you  think  it  was  up  here?  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  man."  Edith  had 
almost  said  "  strength  as  matched  against 
the  man  beside  me,"  but  she  added:  "I 
thought  it  had  grown  quite  a  little.  Do 
you  remember  some  of  the  Indian  stories 
we  used  to  listen  to  until  we  were  afraid 
to  go  home,  or  have  you  forgotten  them?  " 

Edith  asked  the  questions  to  hide  her 
confusion  for  she  had  never  meant  to  refer 
to  the  old  days  until  Homer  himself  should 
recall  them. 

"  I've  never  forgotten  anything  of  those 
old  days  —  and  I  never  want  to  forget." 

Homer's  eyes  were  still  on  the  rock  he 
was  carving,  but  there  was  a  new  note  in 
his  voice,  a  note  of  sadness,  as  if  speaking 
of  the  beloved  dead.  "  And  since  I  haven't 
forgotten  anything,  I  still  remember  the 


60         Cfte  Corner  Stone 

day  you  went  away  and  left  a  little  boy 
so  lonely." 

He  put  one  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulder 
for  a  moment,  as  they  suddenly  rose  to 
their  feet. 

The  horses,  weary  from  the  long  jour 
ney  at  an  hour  when  a  horse  by  nature 
rests,  stood  quietly  by  with  drooping  heads. 

No  sounds  came  from  the  plains  below. 
The  August  morning  was  superb  in  its 
silence.  And  they  were  together  on  Paw 
nee  Rock.  In  that  moment  the  lost  years 
were  bridged  over.  Samson  Grannell's 
well-planned  scheme  for  his  own  profit,  the 
mutual  mis-judgment  of  character  forced 
upon  these  two  by  greed  and  jealousy  and 
circumstance,  the  cheapness  of  a  game  of 
mutual  pretense  and  mutual  deception  - 
all  fell  away  in  the  presence  of  the  sweet 
air  that  plays  about  the  brow  of  Pawnee 
Rock  and  the  broad  grandeur  of  the  earth 
and  the  fulness  thereof  that  lies  in  lengths 
of  fruitful  beauty  about  its  base.  And  yet, 
neither  this  man  nor  this  woman,  each  with 
a  sacred  memory  of  a  by-gone  day,  cher 
ished  by  strange  circumstances  through  all 
the  succeeding  days,  could  dare  to  believe 
that  what  had  grown  in  precious  value 
to  one  meant  more  than  one  of  a  thousand 
childhood  memories  to  the  other. 

Edith  looked  up,  the  light  of  the  morn 
ing  in  her  gray  eyes;  but  Homer,  who 
was  staring  down  at  the  lines  he  had  been 
cutting  on  the  rock,  lost  their  illuminating 
ray. 

"  Edith,  what  was  it  that  little  mono 
gram  pin  that  you  lost  stood  for?"  he 
asked  in  a  changed  voice. 


Cfte  Corner  §>tone         61 

"  Hope  ever,"  she  replied  carelessly. 
"  Was    it     anything     like     these     lines 
here?" 


Edith  saw  the  crude  marking  on  the 
face  of  the  rock  at  his  feet. 

"  Yes,  just  like  that,"  she  said. 

"  Too  bad  to  lose  it.  It  might  stand 
for  a  good  many  things  besides  your  motto. 
I  like  the  meaning  and  the  design.  Shall 
we  come  back  here  sometime  and  see  if 
the  symbol  has  disappeared,  too,  like  the 
thing  it  stands  for?  It  is  a  good  place 
to  tie  to  when  things  get  mixed  up  down 
on  the  prairie.  .  Would  you  care  to  come 
back  again  with  me?" 

There  was  a  longing  in  the  young  man's 
brown  eyes,  and  a  sort  of  weariness  in  his 
motion  as  he  turned  to  the  waiting  horses. 
It  was  good  to  be  up  here  with  Edith  as 
he  would  have  her  be,  free  from  mercenary 
suggestion.  Up  here  he  could  never  doubt 
her  sincerity,  her  womanliness.  lie  was 
tired  and  ashamed  of  the  game  he  had  been 
playing.  The  summer  was  coming  to  an 
end.  Then  Edith  would  be  going  away. 
That  was  to  be  the  end  of  everything. 

;'  Would  you  care  to  come  back  here  for 
a  sunset  some  evening  with  me?  "  he  asked 
again,  as  he  led  White  Rock  aside  for  her 
to  mount. 

An  eager  longing  possessed  Edith  to 
believe  in  him  fully  at  that  moment,  and  a 
bitter  resentment  against  her  uncle's  esti 
mate  of  him  as  a  flirt  and  a  fortune  getter 
filled  her  heart. 


62         Cfte  Cornet  Sterne 

'  When  you  want  me  to  come  again, 
you  may  tell  me  so,"  she  answered  as  she 
caught  the  bridle  rein. 

u  Are  you  really  going  away  at  the  end 
of  the  summer?"  Homer  queried  as  he 
helped  her  to  her  saddle  and  stood  looking 
up  at  her,  one  hand  resting  on  White 
Rock's  creamy  mane. 

He  did  not  want  the  summer  to  end  if 
she  said  yes.  Yet  he  hoped  with  all  his 
heart  she  would  say  it.  It  would  so  exalt 
her  above  the  cheap  gossip  that  he  hated. 

A  wave  of  deeper  pink  swept  the  girl's 
fair  cheek,  as  she  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Nothing  is  settled  yet,  nor  even  begun 
to  be  settled  between  Uncle  Samson  and 
myself,  except  —  "  She  lifted  her  glorious 
gray  eyes,  and  the  brave  courage  of  the 
young  face  was  beautiful,  but  she  did  not 
go  further  and  her  companion  could  only 
guess  at  her  wordless  thought. 

The  streak  of  real  Colorado  weather 
had  slipped  across  the  prairies  and  in  its 
cool  refreshing  the  two  young  riders  went 
slowly  homeward. 


rOWtl  JIURP19 

'neatlt  a  Dome 


VII 

A  house  is  built  of  brick  and  stone   with  sills,  and  roof 

and  piers,  , 

But  a  home  is  built  out  of  loving  deeds  that  stand  for 

a  thousand  years. 

AUGUST  ran  into  September,  and 
September  gave  place  to  October. 
Engineers  had  figured  the  cost  of  squaring 
and  leveling  the  ranches,  and  crucifying 
an  old  man's  life-dream,  and  still  no 
changes  had  been  made.  The  woodland 
of  "  The  Shadows  "  grew  golden  brown, 
the  sumach  and  scrub  oak  on  the  slopes 
were  a  riot  of  purple  and  scarlet,  every 
color  of  the  rainbow  shone  in  the  frost- 
fired  grasses  along  the  winding  road.  The 
waters  of  the  rock-bottom  ford,  deeper 
from  the  fall  rains,  splashed  the  varnish 
on  the  passing  automobiles,  the  dreamy 
air  of  a  Kansas  October  hung  over  the 
prairies,  filling  the  hours  with  delight. 

Yet  all  was  not  well  in  one  corner  of 
the  great  Kansas  wheat  belt.  Edith  Gran- 
nell  who  had  been  homeless  for  twelve 
years  now  had  a  home  so  pleasantly 
fastened  about  her  that  its  ties  were  all  the 
harder  to  break.  Samson  Grannell  gave  his 
niece  no  opportunity,  nor  excuse  from  his 
viewpoint,  to  consider  the  ending  of  her 
visit.  Edith,  however,  went  quietly  for 
ward  with  her  own  plans,  although  it  was 

[65] 


66         Cfce  Corner  ©tone 

early  September  before  she  could  make 
an  opportunity  to  speak  of  them. 

"  I  have  a  call  to  Chicago,  Uncle  Sam 
son,"  she  said  one  day  when  she  opened 
her  mail.  "  A  schoolmate's  mother  writes 
that  she  wants  me  to  fill  a  vacancy  just 
made  in  a  nurses'  training  school.  It  is 
the  very  thing  I'd  like  to  do.  Of  course, 
this  is  a  little  sudden,  but  I  should  be 
going  soon  anyhow." 

"  Why  should  you?  "  Grannell  inquired 
in  an  even  voice. 

"Why?  Because  I  can't  stay  here  in 
idleness,  now  that  I  can  earn  my  living. 
I  don't  want  to  offend  you,  Uncle  Samson, 
by  speaking  of  this,  but  I've  taxed  you 
long  enough." 

As  she  stood  up  before  him,  capable, 
determined,  and  winsomely  attractive,  she 
seemed  fitted  alike  to  adorn  a  home  or  to 
take  care  of  herself,  and  Samson  Grannell 
for  the  first  time  began  to  realize  this. 

"  Would  you  stay  if  I  needed  you?  "  he 
asked  without  sign  of  offense  in  his  voice. 

"  Oh,  if  you  needed  me,  I  would  stay," 
Edith  replied. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  of  it." 

Grannel  might  as  well  have  said,  "  Then 
you'll  not  go,"  so  decisive  was  his  tone. 

And  Edith  did  not  go. 

Captain  Klews  once  told  Jim  Gledden 
that  when  Sam  Grannell  made  up  his  mind 
to  a  thing  there  was  nothing  left  to  Provi 
dence  but  to  get  things  ready  for  it.  The 
very  next  day  the  housekeeper  made  a  mis 
step  on  the  cellar  stairs,  with  the  result  of 
a  hard  fall,  and  a  dislocated  shoulder,  and 
Edith's  training  as  a  nurse  beg^n  at  once. 


Cfte  Cornet  Stone         67 

"  I  could  hire  someone,  of  course,"  her 
uncle  said,  "  but  I  would  rather  have  you, 
and  since  you  are  determined  to  go  into 
wage  earning,  I'll  pay  you  what  I  would  a 
stranger." 

"  I  couldn't  let  you  do  that,"  Edith  in 
sisted. 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  get  someone  who 
will,  and  let  you  go,  although  I  need  you 
and  want  you  to  stay  here,"  Grannell 
replied. 

That  settled  matters,  and  Samson  Gran 
nell  had  won  the  day.  He  had  not  yet 
confessed  to  himself  that  the  ranchhouse 
would  be  strangely  dreary  without  the 
presence  of  this  sunny-spirited  girl,  and  his 
conscience  was  as  yet  but  dimly  awake  to 
what  he  had  lost  through  twelve  lost  years. 
A  swift  realization  of  how  much  life  she 
had  put  into  four  walls  now  came  to  him. 
But  it  was  as  a  selfish  man  sees,  and  Sam 
son  Grannell  had  still  much  to  learn. 

All  was  not  well  with  Noel  Waverly, 
who  had  never  learned  the  swift  fortune- 
building  art  of  a  younger  generation.  So 
while  those  about  him  grew  rich,  he  was 
finding  it  harder  and  harder  to  maintain 
himself. 

In  the  day  of  the  elder  Helm  he  had 
given  option  jointly,  in  the  event  of  his 
death,  to  the  two  ranches  that  had  already 
acquired  most  of  his  once  big  holdings. 
Bad  fortune  had  made  it  necessary  later 
to  mortgage  the  remainder  to  Isabel  Helm, 
whom  he  chose  in  preference  to  Sam 
son  Grannell,  with  the  understanding,  of 
course,  tLat  Grannell  should  have  the  same 


68         Cfje  Corner  Stone 

option  on  a  share  if  foreclosure  should 
follow. 

The  mortgage  was  several  months 
overdue,  but  Isabel  Helm  had  not  fore 
closed. 

"  Damn  a  sentimental  woman!  "  Gran- 
nell  said  often  now.  "  Mrs.  Helm  is 
letting  old  Waverly  drag  behind  with 
his  interest  when  she  could  fix  things. 
Homer's  marriage  will  settle  everything, 
and  Homer  will  marry.  This  is  an  inter 
esting  game  for  the  young  folks,  but  they 
mustn't  play  it  too  long.  How  cocksure 
they  are  of  themselves,  never  dreaming 
who  makes  most  of  the  moves  for  them 
on  this  particular  checker  board.  I'll  have 
to  settle  some  things  with  him  about  the 
Waverly  land  to  make  sure  though,  or 
that  mother  of  his  with  her  big  brown  eyes 
and  cheeks  growing  red  and  white  will  get 
some  sort  of  promise  out  of  him.  I've 
hung  on  till  I'd  die  mad  if  this  thing  didn't 
go  through." 

Homer  Helm  went  East  early  in  Octo 
ber  on  business  for  his  mother.  Grannell 
reasoned  that  what  was  done  in  his  absence 
might  help  to  the  quick  culmination  after 
his  return. 

One  ranch,  six  thousand  four  hundred 
acres  broad;  every  acre,  save  the  building 
sites,  in  wheat  —  that  was  his  dream  for 
the  future.  Just  as  Noel  Waverly  with 
bowed  white  head  dreamed  of  holding  still 
to  the  woodland  "  Shadows,"  that  his 
Mary  had  loved. 

Homer  Helm  came  to  tell  Edith  good 
bye  on  the  evening  before  he  left  home. 
It  was  in  the  full  of  the  hunter's  moon, 


C6e  Corner  Stone         69 

and  a  silver  radiance  made  the  night 
beautiful. 

"  I  shall  come  home  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,  for  mother  is  not  very  well,  and 
there  are  so  many  things  to  look  after  this 
fall.  Meantime,  I'll  '  hope  ever  '  for  all 
good  things  for  all  good  Kansans,"  he  said 
as  they  stood  at  Edith's  gateway.  '  This 
is  a  beautiful  night  to  remember  —  one's 
blessings,"  he  added,  as  he  looked  at 
Edith's  face  in  the  moonlight. 

Since  that  morning  on  Pawnee  Rock 
they  had  not  spoken  of  remembering.  The 
old  comradeship  was  lost  for  them,  but 
a  newer  understanding  existed  unworded 
between  them.  The  trivial  purposes  of 
each  in  the  May  time  when  they  first  went 
horseback  riding  together  fell  away  before 
the  stronger  feeling  of  the  autumn  days. 

"  This  is  not  like  that  other  good-bye 
when  you  went  away  long  ago,  for  I'll  be 
back  in  twelve  days  instead  of  twelve 
years,  yet  I  don't  want  to  go.  So  many 
things  might  happen  while  I'm  gone.  I 
don't  like  good-byes,  so  I  won't  say  any. 
I'll  just  run  away  now." 

Homer  gently  lifted  the  girl's  face  be 
tween  his  hands  and  looked  into  her  eyes, 
assured  in  mind  that  there  was  no  shadow 
of  truth  in  the  gossip  that  had  so  misrep 
resented  her.  A  moment  later  he  was 
galloping  away. 

Edith  Grannell  stood  long  at  the  gate 
looking  at  the  moonlight  through  tear-wet 
lashes. 

"  He  is  not  a  flirt,"  she  said  softly  to 
herself.  "  He  is  not  a  selfish  money-lover 
who  wants  only  a  rich  girl  for  a  wife. 


70         Cfce  Corner  Stone 

He's  the  grown-up  little  Homer  Helm  of 
long  ago." 

So  many  things  did  happen  in  Homer's 
absence,  and  afterward,  that  his  anxious 
forecast  was  as  a  prophetic  call. 

Early  in  the  next  forenoon  Samson 
Grannell  sought  out  Noel  Waverly.  If 
the  interview  was  harsh,  it  was  perfectly 
plain  and  business-like,  and  no  line  of  pity 
softened  the  face  of  the  rich  ranch  owner, 
as  he  looked  at  the  old  plainsman,  helpless 
before  him. 

"  I  read  you  like  a  book,"  he  declared 
bluntly,  unmindful  that  a  little  child  with 
big  pitying  blue  eyes  sat  behind  her  grand 
father's  chair,  clutching  the  back  of  his 
elbow.  "  You've  played  the  sob  game  to 
the  end.  You  are  going  under  now.  If 
you'll  just  let  Mrs.  Helm  settle  with  you, 
I'll  give  you  a  life  lease,  rent  free,  on  five 
acres  I  own  six  miles  west.  You  won't 
need  it  long.  And  you  can  put  that  child 
in  an  orphan  asylum.  You've  kept  her 
too  long  already." 

It  was  not  to  taunt  the  old  man  with 
his  brief  life  tenure,  but  the  habitual 
thought  of  gain  that  made  the  younger, 
man  consider  how  soon  the  five  acres  would 
revert  to  himself  again.  But  strangely 
enough  for  the  first  time  the  word  orphan 
asylum  grated  on  his  own  ears. 

"  It's  up  on  the  ridge.  There's  no  trees 
of  course,  but  there's  a  good  little  two- 
roomed  house  and  a  stable  for  a  horse  and 
cow.  There's  a  spring,  some  way  off,  it's 
true,  but  you  can  save  all  the  water  you'll 
use  in  a  rain-barrel,  and  what  do  you  care 
for  all  this  here  at  your  time  of  life,  Wav- 


Cfte  Cornet  Sterne         71 

erly?  We  are  living  in  a  day  of  real 
things,  section  lines  and  straight  edges,  not 
fanciful  curves  and  imaginary  sentimental 
ideas." 

Noel  Waverly  knew  all  about  that  bar 
ren  five-acre  tract  lost  to  a  poor  freeholder 
through  debt;  a  dreary,  sun-baked  spot 
with  unpainted  dwelling,  and  weed-grown 
dooryard.  For  a  few  minutes  he  sat  with 
bowed  head.  Then  the  spirit  of  the  plains 
man  woke  to  life.  The  man  who  had 
hunted  the  buffalo  and  fought  the  Pawnee, 
who  had  herded  cattle  on  the  range,  and 
held  the  land  for  coming  occupation  —  the 
force  without  whom  the  great  wheat  belt 
had  been  impossible  —  this  white-haired, 
keen-eyed  man,  standing  erect  with  flashing 
eyes,  hurled  defiance  at  his  enemy. 

"  I  can  read  yon  like  a  book,  Samson 
Grannell,"  he  declared.  "  You  let  that 
niece  of  yours  go  homeless  for  years,  till 
you  wanted  some  means  of  controlling 
Homer  Helm.  Then  you  sent  for  her  to 
make  a  match  between  them.  Not  for  her 
sake,  but  your  own.  You'd  turn  her  out 
tomorrow,  same  as  you  would  me,  if  you 
didn't  need  her,  for  you  want  just  one 
thing,  money.  You  taunt  me  about  my 
short  life  span.  Why,  man,  I  want  to  go 
and  be  with  Mary  Waverly  again,  if  only 
I  can  save  enough  to  protect  my  little  Faith 
here  and  support  her  till  she  can  take  care 
of  herself.  She's  never  going  to  an  orphan 
asylum.  Poor  as  I  am,  I'm  rich  in  one 
thing  where  you  with  your  younger  years 
and  money  are  a  pauper,  and  that's  the 
riches  of  love.  You  can't  know  what  that 
means.  But  Faith  and  I  do. 


72         Cfte  Corner 


'  You  talk  about  real  things,  as  squares 
and  straight  lines.  Did  you  ever  see  a 
section  line?  Most  of  the  real  things  of 
life  are  the  unseen  things.  And  even  the 
things  you  can  see  aren't  straight  lines. 
The  rivers  curve  in  .and  out.  I  never  saw 
a  shower,  blessing  a  burnt  up  Kansas 
prairie,  falling  from  a  square  cloud;  I 
never  saw  a  three-cornered  apple,  nor  an 
eight-sided  stalk  of  wheat.  And  as  to 
sentiment  and  imagination,  out  of  sight  of 
human  eyes  are  dreams  and  hopes  and 
loves  and  memories  and  home  and  heaven 
and  God  Almighty  who  dwelleth  not  in 
temples  made  with  men's  hands,  and  who 
maketh  the  clouds  His  chariot. 

"  You  can't  understand  life,  Samsori 
Grannell,  until  you  learn  what  is  real  and 
what  is  false,  until  you  get  the  angles  out 
of  your  eyes,  and  the  curves  into  your 
heart. 

"  And  once  for  all,"  the  old  man  now 
stood  up  erect  and  full  of  courage.  "  Once 
for  all,  remember,  I  come  of  a  fighting 
generation,  and  I  won't  give  up  yet.  The 
Arapahoes  roped  me  and  staked  me  out  to 
die  in  the  Cimarron  country  when  I  was 
nineteen,  but  I'm  here  yet.  A  wounded 
buffalo  bull  had  me  down  but  I  killed  him. 
The  Comanches  had  their  knives  ready  to 
get  my  scalp  but  Mary  saved  me.  The 
Pawnees  tied  me  to  a  stake  to  torture  and 
burn  me  —  but  I  was  reserved  for  that  five- 
acre  tract,  seemingly  !  I'm  never  going  to 
lay  down  while  I  can  fight  another  lick. 
You  hear  what  I  say?  Now,  you  leave  my 
house  and  never  darken  that  door  again 
till  you  come  in  like  a  gentleman." 


Cfte  Corner  §>tone         73 

Grannell  burst  out  in  uncontrollable 
anger: 

u  It's  not  your  house,  you  old  pauper 
leach,  and  I'll  never  leave  it  till  you 
agree  —  " 

He  got  no  further,  for  Noel  Waverly's 
iron  fist  shot  out  straight  before  him  with 
a  force  as  fierce  as  it  was  swift,  and  un 
expected,  and  Samson  Grannell,  the  wheat 
king  of  his  community,  reeled  backward 
and  sprawled  in  an  ignominious  heap  on 
the  blue  grass  under  the  cottonwoods  of 
the  dooryard. 


VIII 

The  mystery  of  the  untried  days 

I  close  my  eyes  from  reading; 
His  will  be  done  whose  darkest  ways 

To  light  and  life  are  leading. 

—  WHITTIER. 

'  TIT'ON'T  you  come  over  here,  and  do 
something  for  me,  please?  "  Lit 
tle  Faith  Clover  called  across  the  ford  to 
Edith  Grannell  who  was  loitering  down  by 
the  creek  on  the  afternoon  after  her  uncle's 
visit  to  "  The  Shadows." 

"  How  can  I  get  across?  The  water  is 
over  the  stepping  stones,"  Edith  answered. 
'  You  can  '  cat '  across  on  the  fence," 
Faith  explained. 

"  To  cat  "  meant  to  creep  across  on  the 
water  gate  of  the  creek.  Edith  was  lonely 
enough  to  do  anything  to  pass  off  a  part 
of  the  twelve  days  before  her,  so  she 
u  catted  "  quite  gracefully  considering  the 
requirements  of  catting,  and  the  narrow 
ness  of  walking  skirts. 

"Will  you  come  and  see  Dando?" 
Faith  asked.  "  He  wants  you,  I  most 
know." 

"  If  you  both  want  me,  I'll  go,  of 
course,"  Edith  responded  graciously. 

So  the  two  went  together  to  the  little 
home  under  the  cottonwoods,  where  Noel 
Waverly  was  sitting  with  stern  face,  look 
ing  out  at  the  peaceful  prairies,  beyond  the 

[74] 


Cfte  Cornet  Stone         75 

valley,    and   the   purple   haze   that    folds 
down  about  them. 

"  I  brought  you  something,  Dando," 
Faith  said  softly,  coming  up  behind  him. 

Noel  Waverly  was  too  much  of  a  man  to 
hold  resentment  against  Edith  on  account 
of  her  name.  He  had  wished  all  summer 
that  he  might  meet  her  again,  for  he  had 
not  forgotten  the  little  girl  of  long  ago. 
But  the  Grannell  household  had  little 
intercourse  with  the  old  man  of  "  The 
Shadows." 

"  We  know  each  other,  Faith;  he  used 
to  tell  me  stories  when  I  was  only  a  little 
bigger  than  you  are.  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you?  "  She  turned  to  the  old  man, 
her  face  full  of  kindest  interest. 

Noel  Waverly  well  knew  that  Samson 
Grannell  would  push  matters  to  a  finish 
now.  In  return  for  his  fist  would  be  Gran- 
nell's  heel,  or  his  own  neck.  The  presence 
of  Edith  brought  a  new  suggestion  to  him. 
He  would  lay  the  case  before  her.  Deli 
cately,  and  without  offense,  if  possible,  he 
would  try  to  secure  her  help.  He  must  do 
something.  This  was  a  drowning  man's 
effort. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  awhile  and  let  me 
talk  to  you,  Miss  Grannell?  Forgive  an 
old  man  for  troubling  you.  It  may  be  you 
can  do  me  a  favor."  There  was  some 
thing  of  the  chivalry  of  the  olden  days 
about  Noel  Waverly.  He  must  have  been 
a  man  of  attractive  presence  in  his  younger 
years. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  do  anything  for 
you  that  I  could  do,"  Edith  assured  him. 
'  You  know  the  history  of  these  two 


76         Cfte  Corner  §>tone 

ranches  on  either  side  of  me,  and  how  the 
owners  sit  waiting^  for  me  to  die  —  for 
give  me  for  saying  it  —  to  square  their 
boundaries." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Edith  answered.  "  And 
I've  always  felt  sorry  for  you." 

There  was  no  doubting  her  sincerity  nor 
her  genuine  sympathy,  and  both  were  a 
balm  to  the  old  man's  sore  heart. 

"  I'm  not  a  money-maker.  I  lived  too 
long  in  the  days  when  ten  thousand  dol 
lars  was  a  fortune.  My  sons  died  young. 
Then  I  began  to  sell  off  my  land,  and  at 
last  my  son-in-law,  Jim  Clover,  came  to 
grief.  Sickness,  poor  crops,  cattle  perish 
ing  in  the  blizzard,  endorsing  notes  at  the 
bank  for  friends,  all  combined  against  him. 
Jim  was  honest  to  the  penny,  but  misfor 
tune  followed  him.  His  wife,  my  daughter, 
died  the  day  Faith  was  born.  The  next 
year  my  wife  died.  Jim  lost  his  life  in  a 
blizzard  that  winter.  I  took  up  the  burden 
he  laid  down  and  paid  every  cent  that 
nobody  should  lose  anything  through  me 
or  mine.  And  I  took  my  little  grandchild 
to  my  heart  and  gave  her  a  home.  But 
now  just  as  soon  as  Homer  Helm  comes 
into  his  property,  he  can  foreclose,  and 
drive  me  out,  me  and  the  little  girl  I've 
been  father  and  mother  to." 

"  Mr.  Helm  wouldn't  turn  you  out." 
Edith's  face  was  full  of  surprise  and 
sorrow. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  will.  You  don't  know 
how  ravenous  land  can  make  a  man  for 
more  land.  As  long  as  Mrs.  Helm  holds 
the  property  she  will  befriend  me.  But  she 
may  have  to  give  up  the  control  at  any 


Cfte  Corner  §>tone         77 

time,  or,  she  might  die.  Then  I'm  at 
Homer's  mercy.  I  thought  maybe  you 
wouldn't  mind  saying  a  word  of  what  you 
think  about  it  to  him  sometime."  Wav- 
erly's  voice  faltered. 

Stories  of  Homer  Helm's  increasing 
love  of  property  that  she  had  denied  to 
herself  came  to  Edith  now  with  a  new 
meaning.  Yet  how  could  he  who  seemed 
so  manly  and  gentle,  he  who  needed  for 
nothing,  turn  an  old  man  out  of  his  home? 

"  I  should  hate  him  and  distrust  him 
always,  if  he  did  that,"  she  said  to  herself. 
Aloud  she  said,  "  I  can't  believe  Homer  — 
Mr.  Helm  —  would  foreclose  on  you.  But 
I'll  speak  to  him  anyhow.  He  has  never 
talked  about  his  business  affairs  to  me. 
Why  don't  you  go  to  Mrs.  Helm  and  ask 
her  to  intercede  for  you  with  her  son?  If 
I  can  do  anything  for  you,  I  will  be  glad. 
I  must  go  now,"  and  she  rose  to  leave  him. 

"  I  thank  you  so  much,  Miss  Grannell. 
It  was  such  a  little  while  ago  that  you  and 
Homer  were  children  here.  Little  sweet 
hearts  then.  I  remember  how  lonely  he 
was  when  you  went  away.  Seemed  like 
he'd  never  get  over  missing  you.  He  was 
never  quite  the  same  boy  after  that." 

The  old  man's  face  beamed  with  grati 
tude  as  his  visitor  shook  his  hand  and  went 
her  way. 

The  next  evening  Noel  Waverly  with 
little  Faith  went  .to  see  Isabel  Helm. 
There  was  a  flush  on  her  cheeks,  and  her 
eyes  were  glowing  with  a  strange  but 
kindly  light  as  she  listened  to  his  plea. 
Doing  good  to  others  had  marked  the  way 
of  her  life. 


78         Ci)e  Corner  §>tone 

"  I'll  never  foreclose  on  you,  Noel. 
Homer  has  not  mentioned  marrying  to  me 
yet.  I  have  always  felt  that  my  husband's 
will  has  been  an  embarrassment  to  him. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  Life  is  uncertain 
—  and  so  are  marriages  -  '  she  added 
with  a  smile.  "  I'll  send  for  a  notary  to 
morrow  morning,  and  have  a  signed  state 
ment  of  my  wishes,  duly  witnessed,  for 
you." 

Her  cheeks  were  deeply  pink  and  her 
eyes  were  shining  as  she  bade  the  old  man 
good-night. 

The  next  morning  the  notary's  services 
were  not  needed.  The  red  flush,  token  of 
irregular  heart  action,  had  warned  in  vain. 
Isabel  Helm  had  slipped  out  of  life  smil 
ingly,  as  one  who  falls  asleep,  and  Homer 
Helm  entered  unhampered  into  his  own. 

Noel  Waverly's  fist  had  helped  tre 
mendously  to  bring  a  speedy  ending  to  this 
land  business  for  Samson  Grannell.  He 
was  determined  now  to  thresh  the  matter 
out  with  Isabel  Helm,  who  was  unjustly 
keeping  him  out  of  his  share  of  the  Wav- 
erly  holdings.  The  young  folks  he  could 
whip  into  shape  afterward. 

As  he  was  riding  home  from  a  two  days' 
business  trip  he  stopped  at  the  top  of  the 
slope  by  "  The  Shadows."  He  was  so  ab 
sorbed  in  his  own  calculations  that  he  did 
not  notice  the  presence  of  Faith  Clover 
until  she  stood  beside  the  car  looking  up 
at  him. 

"Are  you  waiting  for  Dando?"  she 
asked  timidly.  "  He's  gone  over  to  Helm's 
to  the  big  red  barn  over  there.  Mrs. 


Clje  Cornet  ®tone         79 

Helm  went  to  heaven  yesterday  morning, 
and- 

"  What  did  you  say?  That  Mrs.  Helm 
is  dead?  "  Grannell  asked,  clutching  the 
side  of  the  car. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  Faith  answered  simply. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  Grannell 
did  not  know7  why  he  asked  the  question. 
His  mind  was  dazed  by  the  news  he  had 
heard. 

"  Oh,  I  am  playing  like  the  prince  will 
come  home  pretty  soon  or  the  princess  will 
cry." 

"  And  what  do  you  know  about  the 
prince?"  Grannell  asked,  while  looking 
shrewdly  at  the  innocent  face  before 
him. 

"  I  play  like  he  loves  the  princess  and 
they  will  marry  and  live  happily  ever 
after." 

"  The  kid  comes  honestly  by  her  notions, 
she  is  just  like  the  old  man.  But  Homer 
owns  everything  now."  Grannell  thought 
as  he  tried  not  to  exult. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  know  about  the 
princess,"  he  asked. 

"  She  won't  love  the  prince  if  he  takes 
Dando's  trees  and  house,  and  everything. 
She  told  Dando  she  knew  the  prince 
wouldn't  never  do  that." 

Grannell  did  not  care  to  hear  any  more. 
Now  was  his  time  to  act.  The  extermina 
tion  of  Waverly  and  the  small  gain  to  be 
acquired  possessed  him.  Narrow  purposes 
are  no  less  dominant  than  broad,  generous 
ones.  Either  may  become  the  master  of  a 
soul. 

That  evening  came  the  crisis  as  the  two 


80          Cfte  Corner  Sterne 

sat  together  in  the  twilight  after  tea  talk 
ing  of  this  sudden  death  of  their  neighbor. 

"  Everything  belongs  to  Homer  now,  of 
course,"  Grannell  declared.  "  He  will 
make  no  concessions  to  Waverly.  He  has 
wanted  to  be  rid  of  the  old  man  too  long." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that?  "  Edith  asked, 
glad  that  the  evening  shadows  hid  her  face. 

"  I  know  it  absolutely.  Have  known  it 
ever  since  Homer  came  home  from  college. 
Why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Because  I  would  despise  a  man  for 
ever  who  would  turn  a  poor  old  man  out 
of  his  home  just  to,  add  a  few  more  acres 
to  his  own  big  farm,"  Edith  replied. 

"Would  you?"  The  voice  cut  like  a 
steel  blade.  "  I'm  glad  it's  not  in  my 
power  to  do  it.  You  would  despise  me." 

Six  months  ago  her  words  could  not 
have  hurt  him.  Their  unconscious  stab 
tonight  was  index  of  how  much  she  had 
come  into  his  life. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Samson,  you  know  I  could 
n't  do  that."  Edith  could  say  nothing 
more. 

"  And  you'll  take  back  what  you  say 
about  despising  the  man  who  makes  old 
Waverly  come  to  time?"  He  followed 
up  the  advantage  gained. 

"  Never!  "     Edith  spoke  decisively. 

Samson  Grannell  shifted  his  plans  at 
once. 

"  Homer  will  marry  some  rich  girl,  or 
one  with  prospects,"  he  said  after  a  long 
pause,  "  or  at  least  one  with  good  business 
sense  about  property  values,"  he  added 
casually.  "  He'd  be  sure  to  cut  any  girl 
who  interfered  or  objected  to  his  squaring 


C6e  Corner  Stone         81 

his  ranch  and  making  it  more  productive. 
He's  set  on  that.  All  any  girl  he  cares  for 
would  need  to  do  would  be  to  agree  with 
him.  I  know  what  I'm  saying,  Edith." 

"  Little  white  lies  must  be  all  right  if 
they  serve  a  big  purpose,"  Grannell  rea 
soned  to  himself.  "  This  affair  between 
the  young  folks  must  go  no  further  until 
things  are  made  safe.  Edith  is  a  sensible 
girl,  and  if  it  comes  down  to  brass  tacks, 
she's  too  smart  to  let  anything  stand  in  her 
way.  Folks  in  love,  too,  will  give  up  any 
thing.  I  was  a  fool  that  way  myself  once, 
ready  to  give  up  every  principle  I  ever  had 
for  a  girl." 

So  Grannell  philosophised.  But  the 
trouble  with  the  philosopher  is  that  he 
may  mistake  selfishness  for  wisdom. 

"  Edith,  you've  been  kept  here  too 
closely  nursing  the  cripple.  How  would  you 
like  to  run  down  to  Kansas  City  and  do 
some  shopping?  Every  woman  likes  to 
shop,  and  you  could  go  this  week."  Gran 
nell  shifted  easily  from  one  line  to  another. 

"  I  would  like  it  very  much,"  Edith  said 
faintly. 

The  world  had  gone  out  from  under 
her  feet  tonight.  Her  uncle  had  always 
known  Homer  Helm.  He  must  know 
what  many  others  had  hinted  to  her  be 
fore,  the  young  man's  love  of  riches  —  and 
she  was  penniless.  The  game  she  had 
played  in  the  early  summer  had  become  a 
bitter  reality  now,  and  she  must  play  on  to 
the  end. 

Homer  Helm  had  no  opportunity  of 
meeting  Edith  before  his  mother's  funeral. 


82         Cfte  Cornet  Stone 

Two  evenings  after  the  burial,  he  came  to 
call  at  the  Grannell  home. 

u  Edith  has  gone  to  Kansas  City  to 
do  some  shopping,"  Grannell  explained 
smoothly.  "  She  left  early  this  morning. 
You  know  when  a  woman  has  clothes  on 
the  brain,  you  can't  stop  'em,  and  this  is 
bargain  week  down  there.  Edith's  got 
good  business  sense.  Of  course,  she  has 
reason  to  expect  that  I'll  do  well  by  her 
sometime  —  she's  the  only  heir  I  have  in 
the  world  —  if  she  doesn't  oppose  my 
wishes,  and  she  won't  do  that.  By  the 
way,  she  thinks  just  as  I  do  about  old 
Waverly.  She'd  have  him  out  tomorrow, 
if  she  had  her  way." 

By  his  own  standards,  Samson  Grannell 
felt  that  he  was  putting  on  his  niece  the 
value  the  rich  young  ranchman  must  highly 
approve.  Moreover,  he  trusted  to  the 
willingness  of  a  young  lover  to  do  what 
ever  the  girl  he  loved  should  desire.  He 
had  been  the  same  kind  of  a  fool  once 
himself.  But  he  had  worshiped  too  long 
at  one  shrine  now  to  see  what  lay  back  of 
the  set  face  and  dark  eyes  before  him. 
His  idol  never  crumbled.  How  could  he 
understand  the  sorrow  and  disappointment 
of  the  younger  man? 

He  would  keep  the  two  apart  till  his 
point  was  gained.  That  would  soon  be 
done.  Then  matters  would  shape  up  all 
right  and  they  would  thank  him  in  the 
end. 

By  his  adroit  planning  no  opportunity 
came  to  the  two  young  people  to  question 
each  other  or  come  to  an  understanding. 
Edith  waited  in  sadness  for  a  settlement  of 


Cfte  Corner  S»tone         83 

the  Waverly  matter,  while  Homer  set  him 
self  sternly  to  the  task  of  ignoring  and  for 
getting  a  girl  whose  motives  were  so  un 
worthy. 

The  golden  light  of  October  lay  on  all 
the  prairies.  The  purple  haze  of  autumn 
curtained  the  horizon.  But  the  light  was 
a  glare  and  the  purple  a  deepening  shadow 
to  two  young  hearts  who  had  found  dross 
where  they  had  hoped  to  find  gold. 

The  days  came  and  went,  but  Blackstone 
and  White  Rock  cantered  no  more  to 
gether  along  the  level  roads.  Homer  did 
not  call  at  the  Grannell  ranch  except  on 
such  business  as  might  be  transacted  out 
of  doors,  with  the  owner  of  the  ranch. 
Edith  gave  no  opportunity  for  any  inter 
view  when  they  met  by  chance  in  the  same 
company.  Gossip  took  a  new  tack  and 
busied  itself  —  but  neither  one  heeded  a 
word  for  nor  against  the  other.  The  Helm 
house  was  listed  in  the  rural  free  delivery 
route  and  old  Captain  Klews  had  few 
occasions  to  report  to  Homer  what  Jim 
Gledden  gathered  up  by  the  way. 

In  spite  of  Grannell's  protest  the  creek 
was  bridged  in  November.  But  largely  on 
account  of  his  protest  the  structure  was  a 
cheap  affair,  pending  the  time  when  a 
permanent  one  should  be  built  on  the  new 
straight  road  to  the  north. 


liver  onows 


and  jcar 


IX 

A  little  child  shall  lead  them. 


ISAIAH. 


months  passed  after  the  death  of 
Isabel  Helm,  and  Christmas  was  ap 
proaching.  Homer  Helm  had  not  yet 
pressed  the  foreclosure  of  the  mortgage 
he  held  against  "  The  Shadows,"  but  Noel 
Waverly  knew  a  reckoning  day  was  near, 
and  he  had  not  even  enough  money  to 
cover  the  over-due  interest.  He  knew,  too, 
that  there  was  small  chance  for  Santa  Claus 
to  remember  little  Faith  this  year.  Few 
heartaches  are  like  that  of  knowing  that 
a  trusting  child  must  be  disappointed  on 
Christmas  morning. 

December  had  been  unusually  mild,  and 
the  day  before  Christmas  was  almost 
balmy  in  its  warmth,  with  heavy  brown 
shadows  in  the  northwest,  token  of  an  ap 
proaching  storm. 

"  I  saw  old  Noel  Waverly  starting  to 
town  a  while  ago,"  Samson  Grannell  said 
to  Edith  at  lunch  time.  "  Some  men  who 
can't  pay  their  debts  have  plenty  to  spend 
at  Christmas,  it  seems." 

"  It  might  mean  a  great  deal  to  little 
Faith,"  Edith  ventured. 

"  The  sooner  she  gets  over  expecting 
such  things  the  better.  Besides,  there's  a 
change  coming.  This  weather  is  unnat- 


88         Cfte  Corner 


ural,  and  there's  a  storm  mixing  in  the 
northwest  right  now.  The  old  man's  a 
fool  to  start  on  such  a  long  ride  with  that 
slow  old  pony.  I'm  going  to  town  myself 
in  the  car  pretty  soon."  Christmas  had  a 
new  meaning  to  him  now,  with  Edith  in 
his  home,  but  it  was  a  selfish  man's  Christ 
mas  withal.  "  If  those  packages  that  I 
ordered  aren't  in  yet,  I'll  wait  in  town  till 
the  morning  train.  But  if  they  are,  I  can 
make  it  there  and  back  before  dark.  Noel 
will  be  till  in  the  night  getting  home,"  he 
added,  "  and  the  young  one  will  be  there 
by  herself.  It's  a  mercy  if  she  doesn't  up 
set  the  lamp,  or  something.  She  ought  to 
be  in  an  orphan  asylum  as  I've  always 
said." 

It  would  have  been  easy  for  Grannell 
to  have  taken  his  old  neighbor  in  his  car 
for  the  trip  to  town.  But  Noel  had  ordered 
him  not  to  darken  the  Waverly  door  till 
he  could  come  in  like  a  gentleman.  That 
had  hurt  worse  than  the  old  fist  that  sent 
him  headlong  to  the  ground  in  a  most  un- 
gentlemanly  manner.  He'd  show  the  old 
fighting  brute  how  a  gentleman  can  get 
to  town  and  home  again  in  comfort.  He 
passed  the  pony  and  its  rider  on  the  way, 
both  going  and  coming,  but  if  he  dis 
tinguished  them  from  the  dust  of  the  earth, 
he  made  no  sign.  The  wind  was  rising 
before  he  left  town,  and  a  great  drop 
in  the  temperature  foretold  the  uncoiling 
of  a  blizzard  from  that  frowning  dust- 
brown  northwest  that  would  soon  be  whirl 
ing  across  the  prairies  in  a  fury  of  snow 
and  bitter  ravening  cold.  But  the  storm 
came  more  swiftly  than  Grannell  had 


C6e  Cornet  §>tone         89 

anticipated,  so  he  made  his  car  snug  from 
the  north  blast,  and  sped  onward  in  the 
gathering  darkness.  Far  behind  him  Noel 
Waverly,  hugging  the  little  treasure  that 
should  brighten  his  loved  one's  Christmas 
morn,  with  the  thinner  blood  of  old  age, 
bent  bravely  against  the  wind  as  he  urged 
his  faithful  "  Kit  Carson  "  onward  in  the 
teeth  of  the  black  terror  sweeping  down 
on  him. 

Night  fell  quickly.  A  swirl  of  sleet  made 
the  road  treacherous.  Grannell  had  to 
slacken  his  speed  and  feel  his  way  slowly 
and  carefully,  while,  like  the  hare  and 
the  tortoise,  the  old  pony  and  rider  gained 
on  the  big  machine.  It  skidded  perilously 
as  its  driver  went  crashing  down  the  wind 
ing  trail  toward  the  new  bridge.  It  was 
not  well  built,  as  Grannell  knew,  and  he 
knew,  too,  who  had  most  influenced  the 
commissioners  in  cheapening  that  building. 
But  he  cursed  it  and  its  builders  as  he  re 
membered  that  the  approach  on  one  side 
was  already  caving  away.  He  knew  what 
might  happen  to  him  if  he  hit  that  side 
at  an  angle.  But  the  sleet  put  out  the  eyes 
of  the  automobile  and  he  plunged  on 
blindly  in  the  darkness. 

Meanwhile,  at  home,  Edith  watched  the 
night  and  the  storm  come  down  together. 
She  had  no  anxiety  for  her  uncle.  He  must 
be  waiting  in  town  over  night.  Christmas 
time  meant  slow  trains  and  choked  express 
cars.  But  her  heart  grew  heavy  as  she  re 
membered  little  Faith. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it,"  she  cried 
at  last,  wrapping  herself  against  the  cold. 


90         Cfce  Cornet  Stone 

u  She  might  try  to  go  out  to  meet  her 
grandfather  and  get  lost  herself.  I  know 
every  foot  of  the  path,"  and  the  pang  of 
haunting  memories  of  summer  strolls  along 
that  woodland  way  came  sharp  to  her 
heart. 

Every  foot  of  the  road  was  a  battle  in 
spite  of  her  knowing.  Beyond  the  bridge 
something  seemed  to  catch  at  her  ankle. 
It  must  have  been  only  a  crooked  stick,  but 
it  felt  to  her  gloved  hand  like  the  brass 
rim  of  a  wind  shield.  At  last  she  found 
herself  in  the  room  where  little  Faith  sat 
in  the  dark  and  cold. 

Edith  brought  in  wood  and  soon  a  blaz 
ing  fire  filled  the  room  with  its  warmth  and 
cheer. 

"  It  was  so  black  and  lonesome  without 
Dando,"  Faith  said,  as  she  snuggled  down 
close  to  Edith's  side.  "  I'm  so  glad  you 
are  here.  Will  you  stay  till  he  comes?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  stay  till  he  comes,"  Edith  said 
with  sinking  doubt  in  her  heart,  as  she 
thought  of  the  old  man  out  in  the  storm. 

"  Did  you  know  you  are  my  playlike 
princess?  "  Faith  asked,  putting  both  arms 
lovingly  about  the  girl's  neck. 

"  Am  I?    I'm. glad,"  Edith  replied. 

"  And  Homer  is  the  prince  and  I  want 
so  much  to  know  if  the  story's  ended.  Your 
runcle  broke  my  castle,  and  I  couldn't  see 
you  any  more  and  I  don't  know  if  it 
ended." 

Edith  could  not  understand,  so  she  only 
hugged  the  little  curly  head  to  her  shoul 
der.  And  sitting  thus  they  made  a  pretty 
picture  in  the  firelight. 

"There's    Dando    now,"    Faith    cried 


Cfte  Corner  ®tone         91 

as   the    kitchen  door  opened;  but  it  was 
Homer  Helm  who   stood  before  them. 

Faith  gave  him  a  shy  greeting,  half 
conscious  of  the  chill  that  had  come  in 
with  him. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  Dando?  He's 
gone  to  town  and  it's  so  cold,  she  came 
to  stay  with  me  till  he  comes  back.  Isn't 
she  good?  " 

Homer  looked  in  surprise  at  Edith. 
Had  she  come  out  in  this  storm  to  bring 
comfort  to  a  little  girl  whose  grandfather 
she  would  see  made  houseless  tomorrow? 
While  Edith  wondered  what  could  bring 
Homer  Helm  on  Christmas  eve  of  all  eves 
of  the  year  to  the  home  of  the  man  whom 
he  meant  to  drive  out  of  doors.  But  a 
wall  had  come  between  them.  Since  his 
mother's  death,  when  they  met  the  hard 
look  in  his  eyes  was  confronted  with  the 
scorn  in  hers.  His  face  was  stern  now  as 
if  he  meant  to  carry  out  a  purpose  in  spite 
of  her  presence.  But  his  eyes  were  gentle 
when  he  turned  to  Faith.  The  heart  of  a 
child  is  quick  to  read  character,  and  Faith 
saw  only  a  friend. 

'  Will  your  Dando  hang  up  his  stocking 
tonight?  "  Homer  asked. 

"  I've  got  it  hanged  for  him,  'cause  he 
might  forget,"  Faith  replied.  u  Once  he 
did  forget  and  Santa  never  left  him  any 
thing." 

;'  Well,  I've  just  come  from  Santa 
Claus,"  Homer  went  on.  "  He  couldn't 
get  over  here  tonight.  One  of  his  reindeer 
threw  a  shoe,  so  I'll  take  care  of  Dando's 
stocking  for  him  right  now,  and  then  I 
must  be  going." 


92         Cfte  Cornet  Stone 

"  What  a  funny  thing  for  Dando.  Tell 
me  what  it  is,  and,  cross  my  heart,  I  won't 
tell." 

Faith  fingered  at  a  long  envelope 
crowded  into  the  old  man's  woollen  hose. 

"  Just  a  paper,  part  printed,  part  writ 
ten,  with  some  red  lines  and  a  gold  seal  - 
I  call  it  a  sunflower."    Homer  replied  with 
a  strangely  defiant  ring  in  his  tone. 

Faith  looked  up  at  the  young  man.  The 
eyes  of  a  child  see  far. 

"  Does  it  say  Dando  must  pay  intrist?  " 
she  asked  earnestly. 

"  It  says  he  needn't  ever  pay  intrist,  any 
more.  It's  the  mortgage  my  mother  held 
overdue  for  nearly  a  year.  It's  Dando's 
Christmas  present.  I  shall  not  die  poorer 
because  for  a  few  years  I  let  an  old  man 
live  in  security  and  peace.  If  I  do,  pros 
perity  isn't  worth  the  price." 

Homer  was  not  looking  at  Faith,  nor 
speaking  to  her.  He  was  looking  straight 
at  Edith  Grannell. 

u  Oh,  you  are  a  prince,  a  prince,  a 
prince,"  Faith  danced  about  in  joy.  "  It 
will  make  Dando  so  glad,  glad,  glad.  I 
wish  he'd  come."  A  shadow  flitted  across 
the  sunny  face,  as  the  storm  rattled  at  the 
windows. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down,  and  wait  for 
Dando.  And  please,  please  tell  me  is  the 
story  ended?  "  Faith  pulled  Homer  into 
a  chair  beside  Edith,  and  stood  up  before 
the  two  with  eager  questioning  eyes. 

"  Is  the  story  ended?  "  she  repeated. 

"  You  tell  us  what  the  story  is.  We 
don't  know  anything  about  it,"  Edith  said, 
trying  hard  to  control  her  voice. 


Cfte  Cornet  g>tone         93 

"  Why,  it's  just  your  ownselves'  story, 
and  I  didn't  make  it  up,  I  just  played  like, 
only  I  never  did  know  if  it  ended  and  you 
lived  happily  ever  after.  I'll  tell  you  how 
I  played  it  for  you." 

The   young   people   involuntarily   drew 
closer  together,  and  there  swept  over  thenr 
both  a  sense  of  the  nearness  of  innocence 
and  love  and  trust  to  the  real  heart  of 
life. 

"  I  lived  in  my  castle  bushes  most  all 
summer,"  Faith  began,  "  but  it's  broke 
now.  And  when  you  first  came  princing 
out  of  fairy  land  from  your  castle  where 
the  big  red  barn  is,  I  just  play  like  you 
know,  and  she  came  with  wild  flowers  up 
from  the  creek,  that's  my  Missouri  river, 
and  s'prized  you,  I  played  like  you  were 
a  real  prince  and  princess,  and  would  love 
each  other.  You  came  so  often.  I  tried 
not  to  miss  you,  for  it  was  such  a  sweet 
story." 

Faith  looked  fondly  at  each  young  face 
before  her,  as  she  prattled  on. 

"  The  prince  found  your  little  pin  and 
kept  it,  not  'cause  he's  a  stealer,  sure  he 
isn't  no  stealer.  He  just  wanted  it  'cause 
you  are  his  princess,  I  played  like.  But 
you  went  to  Pawnee  Rock  and  my  castle 
got  broke  down,  and  White  Face  got  in 
and  tore  up  the  vines  and  I  never  did  know 
if  you  lived  happily  ever  after,  but  you 
must,  'cause  you  are  so  good  to  Dando  — 
and  bringed  that  nice  Christmas  gift  for 
Santa  Claus,  and  the  princess  said  you 
wouldn't  never  turn  us  out,  she  knew  you 
wouldn't,  she  told  Dando  so  one  day,  and 
she  asked  him  to  go  see  your  mamma, 


94         Cfte  Cornet 


'cause  she  knew  your  mamma  would  take 
care  of  Dando's  home  and  trees  and  creek. 
But  your  mamma  went  to  heaven  too 
soon."  Faith's  sunny  face  clouded  now. 

Homer  tried  once  to  look  into  Edith's 
face,  but  her  eyes  were  for  the  little  child 
only. 

"  Is  that  all  of  your  story?  "  she  asked 
in  a  low  voice. 

'  You  went  to  Pawnee  Rock  and  Dando 
says,  and  he  knows,  that  folks  that  love  on 
Pawnee  Rock  love  always  and  always. 
Please  tell  me  is  the  story  ended?  "  Faith 
asked. 

Edith  made  no  reply,  so  Faith  turned  to 
Homer  who  had  risen  to  his  feet. 

"Not  yet,"  he  answered,  "I'm  not  a 
stealer,  Faith,  and  I  '  hope  ever.'  " 


Oh,  Earth !  thou  hast  not  any  wind  that  blows 
Which  is  not  music;  every  weed  of  thine 
Pressed  rightly,  glows  with  aromatic  wine; 

And  every  humble  hedgerow  flower  that  grows, 
And  every  little  brown  bird  that  doth  sing, 

Hath  something  greater  than  itself,  and  bears 
A  living  word  to  every  living  thing. 

—  RICHARD  REALF. 

1VTEAN  WHILE  Noel  Waverly  fought 
•*•  his  way  over  the  long  miles  against 
the  blizzard's  rage,  trusting  to  Kit  Car 
son's  wild  instinct  to  carry  him  safely 
through. 

"  They  can  keep  their  old  gasoline 
gigs,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  I'll  keep 
my  old  half-breed  Indian  pony.  The  sleet 
hasn't  blinded  his  glass  eyes,  he  don't  need 
skid  chains,  and  he's  got  some  mind  about 
what  I  want;  while  a  car  like  Grannell's 
would  go  straight  to  hell,  left  to  itself, 
and  not  care  how  many  goggle-eyed,  big- 
gloved  chauffeurs  it  took  along." 

As  he  reached  the  top  of  the  slope  near 
his  home,  an  agonizing  wail  came  to  his 
ears.  Again  it  came,  then  the  storm  swal 
lowed  it. 

"  Somebody  lost  or  hurt.  I'm  pretty 
cold,  too.  But  we  must  find  'em,  Kit.  Go 
on,"  he  urged. 

The  pony  plunged  down  toward  the 
caving  approach  to  the  new  bridge  over 
the  creek.  And  Noel  Waverly,  because 

[95] 


96         Cbe  Corner 


he  had  been  bred  to  danger,  knew  how  to 
find  and  meet  it.  The  old  frame  had  still 
the  vigor  of  the  plains-hardened  muscles, 
and  the  old  arms  a  strength  many  a  softer- 
sinewed  young  man  might  envy.  He  for 
got  the  cold,  and  the  darkness,  and  the 
seventy-five  years  that  had  sapped  his 
vitality. 

Down  under  the  big  touring  car,  Sam 
son  Grannell  lay  like  a  dying  man,  it 
seemed  to  Noel  Waverly,  and  Noel  knew 
the  marks  of  that  great  Enemy.  Then 
came  the  miracle  —  old  as  the  miracles 
down  in  Capernaum  —  the  strength  of 
soul  that  nerves  the  arm  because  the  loving 
heart  will  not  pass  suffering  humanity  by. 
Noel  Waverly,  old,  cold,  and  alone,  wres 
tled  with  the  big  inert  weight  that  was 
crushing  the  life  out  of  his  enemy,  and 
would  not  yield,  until  at  last  he  won.  With 
a  marvelous  grip  he  lifted  the  crushed  and 
broken  body  of  the  helpless  man  to  the 
back  of  his  slow  old  pony,  and,  fighting 
his  way  on  foot  through  the  darkness  and 
bitter  cold,  he  led  Kit  with  his  half-dying 
burden  up  to  the  big,  un-mortgaged  Gran 
nell  house.  The  self-taught  surgeon  of  a 
younger  day  knew  well  the  many  ways 
of  saving  life,  of  slipping  back  wrenched 
joints,  and  stanching  the  flow  of  bleed 
ing  arteries.  The  first,  and  only,  aid  to 
the  injured  served  as  well  in  the  rich  man's 
home  on  this  storm-wracked  night  of  the 
twentieth  century,  as  it  had  done  in  the 
day  of  arrow  and  tomahawk  on  the  far 
desolate  plains  of  an  unwon  wilderness. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  find  me? 
How  could  you  ever  get  me  from  under 


Cfte  Corner  Stone         97 

that  heavy  machine?  How  could  you  get 
me  on  your  pony  and  up  here  through  the 
drifts?  How  could  you  fix  these  injuries 
alone?"  Samson  Grannell  asked  the 
questions  feebly  one  after  another  as  he 
lay  at  length,  awaiting  the  coming  of  dawn. 

"  And,  why  didn't  you  leave  me  to 
die?"  he  added,  with  a  groan,  "a  man 
that's  been  a  brute  to  you  all  these  years?  " 

"  Don't  ask  too  many  questions  right 
now.  You  better  keep  that  shoulder  still, 
and  bear  the  pain  like  a  man.  The  doctor 
will  fix  you  up  easier  as  soon  as  he  can  get 
at  you.  This  is  just  my  old-fashioned 
way  of  surgery.  I  belong  to  a  generation 
that's  about  gone  out." 

The  unconscious  stab  of  the  words  hurt 
worse  than  any  wound  on  Samson  Gran- 
nell's  bruised  body.  Like  a  vision  came 
the  grip  on  life,  real  life,  that  may  belong 
to  a  man  poor  in  purse,  old  in  years,  but 
young  and  rich,  abundantly  and  eternally 
prosperous,  in  human  love. 

"  Waverly,"  he  queried  feebly,  "  I  al 
ways  thought  that  you  were  a  hard-fisted 
plainsman  in  your  younger  years,  and 
you've  had  enough  bad  luck  to  make  you 
hate  the  world.  What  has  brought  you  to 
a  tendeV-hearted  old  age?  " 

"  The  corner  stone  of  life  is  love" 
Noel  Waverly  replied,  as  he  sat  beside  the 
bed,  gently  stroking  Samson  Grannell's 
wrenched  right  arm,  "  and  it  may  be  the 
love  of  a  little  child.  With  all  their 
dreams  and  odd  gentle  ways,  sometimes 
they  can  see  right  through  what's  only  a 
solid  wall  to  us.  Faith  Clover  made  me 
a  lover,  not  a  hater  of  men.  If  I  had  my 


98         Clje  Corner  Stone 

way  there'd  be  no  orphan  asylums,  but  a 
home  for  every  child.  You  shut  out  the 
biggest  joy  of  your  life,  Samson  Grannell, 
when  you  sent  your  little  niece  away  from 
you.  But  you  are  a  young  man  yet. 
When  you  get  well,  you'll  measure  life  in 
curves  as  well  as  straight  lines.  And 
you'll  see  that  the  unseen  things,  the  feel 
ings  and  hopes  and  longings  of  the  human 
soul  are  bigger  than  the  things  we  measure 
by  the  yardstick  and  weigh  on  scales,  and 
value  in  dollars  and  cents." 

The  sun  of  a  December  day  had  slipped 
down  the  west,  and  hung  a  moment  to  send 
one  last  broad  sweep  of  radiance  far  up 
the 'crystal  skies  —  a  good-night  to  the 
world  as  glorious  as  the  grand  good-morn 
ing  of  an  August  day. 

On  the  top  of  Pawnee  Rock,  Homer 
Helm  and  Edith  Grannell  stood  looking 
to  the  west,  where  the  after-glow  of  a  win 
ter  sunset  burned  in  an  ineffable  grandeur. 

"  Edith,  do  you  remember  when  we 
were  here  last  August  that  I  told  you  I 
had  never  forgotten  anything  of  the  days 
of  our  childhood,  and  so  I  hadn't  forgot 
ten  the  day  when  you  went  away  and  left 
a  little  boy  so  lonely?  "  Homer  turned  to 
his  companion  with  the  question. 

u  I  remember,"  Edith  answered,  still 
looking  out  toward  the  radiant  splendor 
of  the  winter  sky. 

"  He  looked  up  to  you  then.  He's  been 
looking  up  to  you  ever  since.  He  was  a 
lonely  shy  little  boy  who  lived  over  the 
days  of  childhood  until  the  best  things  they 
held  became  enshrined  as  the  best  things  of 


Cbe  Corner  @tone         99 

his  manhood.  The  memory  of  a  good-bye 
kiss  staid  with  that  little  boy  who  was  two 
years  older  and  not  nearly  so  big  as  the 
little  girl  then  —  staid,  until  he  became  a 
man  ever  so  much  bigger  and  stronger 
than  the  grown-up  little  girl.  And  he 
knows,  for  Faith  Clover  told  him,  that  she 
is  gentle,  and  kind  to  the  poor,  and  that 
it  is  not  money  but  manliness  that  counts 
with  her.  Edith,  I've  wished  so  long  for 
an  hour  like  this,  but  I  could  not  be  sure 
that  you  would  wish  for  it,  too.  You  for 
got  all  about  me  years  ago  and  I'm  not 
worthy  of  a  place  in  your  memory." 

"  I've  been  told  over  and  over  that  the 
little  boy  grew  up  to  care  for  rich  girls 
only,  or  girls  with  '  prospects,'  but  I  never 
forgot  that  day,"  Edith  said  softly. 

And  then,  somehow,  two  strong  arms 
were  about  her  and  on  her  lips  love  left 
its  first  sweet  kiss. 

"  Forgive  me,  Edith,  it  was  only  the 
little  boy  who  was  glad  again  —  there's 
no  use  trying  that."  Homer  broke  off  and 
stood  silent  beside  her. 

"  Edith,  I  did  find  your  monogram  pin, 
as  Faith  said,  and  I  meant  to  give  it  to  you 
the  next  day.  I  was  only  teasing.  But  I 
lost  it  myself,  and  now  those  markings  I 
cut  here  last  August  are  gone,  too." 

Homer  looked  down  on  the  rock  at  his 
feet  whereon  he  had  cut  the  lines, 


'  The  symbol  that  I  put  here  has  faded. 
Does   that   which   it    symbolizes    endure? 


loo       Cfie  Cornet  Stone 

Edith,  may  I  hope  ever?  May  not  this 
monogram  really  mean  Homer,  Edith,  one 
forever  henceforth?  " 

He  had  taken  Edith's  hands  in  his  and 
she  let  them  rest  there. 

"  Faith  Clover  says,  '  Whoever  loves 
on  Pawnee  Rock  will  love  always  and 
always,'  "  she  murmured  softly.  '  And 
live  happily  ever  after,'  "  Homer  added, 
"  because  the  corner  stone  of  life  is  love." 

Edith  looked  up.  The  manly  form,  the 
strong  face,  the  dark  eyes  filled  with  all  the 
longing  of  the  years  treasured  since  the 
parting  moment  of  a  far  away  day  of  boy 
hood;  underneath  her  feet  was  the  solid 
old  Pawnee  Rock;  out  yonder  the  splendor 
of  scarlet  and  silver,  the  radiant  twilight 
afterglow  at  the  end  of  a  perfect  day! 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  rec 


28Jul'56L] 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


M551865 


